And In the End
by Van Donovan
Summary: Wash returns a changed man and needs the help of the crew to survive. Spoilers for the movie, contains some slash themes but no explicit sex.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** And In the End  
(there are 15 chapters)  
**Author: **Van Donovan  
**Pairings: **(eventually) Wash/Jayne, Wash/Mal, Wash/Zoe.  
**Rating: **PG-13 / Teen  
**Word Count: **Roughly 75,000  
**Beta: **John Arrowsmith  
--

Wash had never been so cold before in his life. 

His body was numb all over, to the point where sitting up wasn't even an option because he couldn't feel his arms and legs to do it. It was hard enough just to open his eyes, and even once he had done that he wasn't sure they were open: all he saw was an endless field of white above him. The harder he stared, the less defined it seemed to be. There were no seams that he could make out, which led him to believe it wasn't a ceiling he was staring at, and yet, it didn't have the quality of the sky. It was completely unlike anywhere he'd ever been, and yet, it seemed vaguely familiar somehow.

He closed his eyes tightly and then reopened them. When he did, he managed to turn his head to the side. That brought into his vision a stark white wall and a door with a tiny window in it. That didn't seem right, either. There wasn't a room like this on I _Serenity /I _. He groaned low in his chest and tried to sit up.

This time his body reacted but only with pain instead of moving. His chest screamed out in agony, and he ceased trying to move. His thoughts were scattered. Where the hell was he? How had he gotten there? The place felt like a medical facility, but he wasn't in a hospital room, he could tell. His worked his mouth a bit and found he was incredibly parched. He wet his lips with his tongue and then tried to speak.

"Hello?" he croaked and was astonished how dusty his voice sounded. "Is anybody there?" he called again. He was sure his voice hadn't carried far, but hearing it had been at least a little reassuring.

Several long minutes passed before he heard the loud metal groans of his door being unlocked. Fortunately he didn't have to move to watch the proceedings, as his head was already turned to the side. The door swung open on a thick metal hinge, and Wash was able to see it was made of solid steel. In the hall he could hear footsteps on the shiny, white floor.

"Number 1020 is awake, sir," a clipped voice said. Wash saw an arm wearing navy clothes gesture inside his cell.

Cell. The word came to him quickly as he realized that was exactly where he was. He was in a cell. He was fairly sure he'd been here before, too, and had already forgotten about it. The person in the hall, he quickly concluded, was not someone he wanted to see. Before he could shout, though, the man stepped into the room.

He seemed a black hole in a sea of light. The man had olive skin and dark hair and eyes. His dress was Alliance blue and seemed to repel the light. He wore a little hat with his rank on it and stood with his hands behind his back, observing Wash.

"You're finally awake," he stated. His voice was smooth but unconcerned.

After a second, Wash's vision went cross-eyed, and the man blurred out of focus. He tightly shut them and tried to make the world stop spinning. "Wish I weren't," he groaned. He wondered if he looked as bad as he sounded. "Where am I?"

"We'll be happy to answer your questions just as soon as you finish answering ours," the man stated. He pulled his hands out from behind him and gestured to someone out in the hall. In a heartbeat two other men entered the room. They were dressed identical to the man, but with lower rank signets.

One grabbed Wash by his arms and hauled him into a sitting position. The other man took out a penlight and flashed it in Wash's eyes. The repetitive motion caused Wash to sneeze, which sent a horrible, jarring pain ripping through his chest. "Seems to be holding this time, sir," the doctor said and straightened up.

Wash's arms were dead at his side, but he wanted to raise them to touch his chest. He felt hollow and empty, like he'd been cut off below the neck. He wanted to touch with his fingers to see if he was even still all there, but they wouldn't respond to him. "What do you want with me?" he croaked.

"Everything," the man said with a face that Wash instantly feared.

"Where is my wife?" he demanded, his eyes suddenly narrowing as he glared at the man. "Where are the others?"

He was rewarded with only laughter. "Doesn't matter where they are," the man replied. "They aren't here. And they're not coming for you, ever." He straightened out again and nodded to the two other men still standing in the room. "Good, send him to processing."

Before Wash could protest, the two men hauled him to his uncooperative feet. He tried to protest as they dragged him out of the room, but the fight had been torn out of him; although his mind was active, the rest of his body was still unresponsive. He couldn't seem to find the will to resist, even though he was angry and wanted to.

--

He was left in a large, metal chair for what felt like hours. During this time, some of his motor functions returned. It was enough to make him realize he was hungry and that he had to use the bathroom. It wasn't enough to get him to actually rise to his feet to do anything about it. He was able to wiggle his fingers and toes, though, which amused him far more than it ought to have.

Looking down, he was unpleased to see that he was dressed in the crisp, white linen uniform of a prisoner. His nails were long and yellow in comparison to the material, and they disgusted him; they were a stranger's hands, not his. His feet were bare and in the same condition, and he tried dragging his toes along the tile floor to break the nails. During this, a door behind him opened. It had the clanging, metallic sound of a steel door, too, which Wash was beginning to suspect all the doors in the facility were made from.

"Good morning, Number 1020." The voice belonged to the same man who had come to him earlier. "I'm Dr. Walker, and I have been assigned to you. I don't have time to waste, so let's get directly to the point." This was all said before he came into view. When Wash could see him, he found the man still in his Alliance uniform, but his eyes seemed changed; they were more aggressive-looking now.

" I _Qin wode pigu /I _," Wash spat darkly.

Dr. Walker smirked and nodded. "Watch your language, 1020," he stated calmly. "You won't like me when I'm angry."

"Why can't I move?" Wash demanded. He wriggled his fingers ineffectually from where his arms lay on the steel chair's armrests.

Dr. Walker's smirk just deepened, somehow growing more sinister. "Tell me everything you know about River Tam," he stated without preamble.

" I _Qu di yu /I _!" Wash empathetically retorted and then spat far enough that it didn't all land on his shirt.

Dr. Walker just nodded in agreement. "Oh, I'm sure, when the time comes, I will," he agreed. Then he took a step closer. "But you're already there."

--

The following day was much the same; Dr. Walker asked him questions about River, and Wash shouted various obscenities at him. By the third day, his motor skills had returned enough that they had to physically restrain him in the chair. It occurred to him then that they hadn't been drugging him to keep him subdued: somehow he had lost his ability to move and they had, seemingly, restored it. The thought didn't endear him to Dr. Walker or any of them, though.

A week after he had awoken was when he first saw Shepherd Book. It had been only for a moment while he was being led down the hall one way. He had just barely glimpsed Book's profile as two orderlies had led him off in another direction. He had shouted Book's name loudly but had been unable to turn to see if Book had heard him. There had been no reply, at least.

The vision fueled him on, though. It meant that he wasn't alone in the facility: the others were with him. He knew he wasn't very good at plotting and planning, but the others were. Zoe and Mal were very good at plotting and planning. If they were both trapped in this place with him, they'd break out and free him. If he really tried to plot anything on his own, he'd probably screw up their plans. All he needed to do was keep his mouth closed about River and sit tight. He could do that.

The other questions they asked, the ones not about River, were harder to resist. He spoke candidly about his time at the flight academy. He supplied them with endlessly boring vignettes of college life on Orion and his romantic exploits. The stories served as much to keep him as sane and grounded as it did to please them for information they wanted.

This posed problems for him, though. He was able to recall the name of every single person he had slept with in college, or had wanted to sleep with in college, but for some reason he couldn't remember his mother's name. He also couldn't remember if he had any siblings. He had memories of himself as a child, but he didn't know if the children he was interacting with in his memories were related to him or not. The gap of knowledge infuriated him as much as it did Dr. Walker.

There were other, larger gaps of memory missing, too. He had no idea how he'd gotten to this place. He couldn't even remember much leading up to it. His last clear memory was taking off from Persephone after Mal had negotiated a simple job with Badger for them to run on Fanty and Mingo's behalf. They were knocking over a storage hold or something. He remembered those details explicitly but not whether or not they'd pulled the mission off successfully.

He knew that Book hadn't been on I _Serenity /I _ when they'd started the mission and that they hadn't been anywhere near Haven. That fact haunted him. From time to time he caught glimpses of other prisoners, and he wondered if perhaps his vision hadn't just betrayed him; it blurred and faded in and out from time to time. He had only caught sight of Book for a brief second. Perhaps, in his desires to not be alone, he had made another man look like the Shepherd?

A month after his arrival, that fear was dispelled. He was awoken earlier than usual by his guard and dragged out into the hall. Instead of traveling the path to the interrogation chamber, however, he was led in the opposite direction. Two huge white steel doors opened before him, and he found himself in a large, open courtyard. There was no sky, but the vaulted ceiling gave the room the impression of being outside.

Standing in the open area were about twenty other men, all who looked like they'd been picked up starving from the streets. They had straggly hair and beards, long yellowed fingernails, and dead, haunted gazes in their eyes; some of them looked further gone than others. Wash knew without having to see a mirror that he looked as badly as they did.

That didn't matter, though. It took him only a few seconds to scan the crowd before his eyes landed on Book. The man looked horrible: far older than his years. He was hunched over and raggedly thin. He appeared eighty and moved like he was a hundred-twenty. Nevertheless, it was clearly Book.

No one else in the crowd looked familiar to Wash, which slightly depressed him. If Mal and the others had been captured, this sort of group setting would be the perfect time for him to plan his escape attack. He thought about a way to get Book's attention, but before he could, a doctor walked out and started belting out orders.

"In a line," she shouted. "Line up by your numbers!"

It was only then that Wash realized that on the back of each of the men's uniforms was their prison number. He had never been allowed to take off his uniform except to use the bathroom, so he'd never seen the back of his shirt. The men began shuffling around and Wash scanned digits, looking for where he'd fit.

Book was making his way over to him, and as soon as Wash realized it, he hurried to him, clasped his hands, and tried to pull him upright. A very quick glance showed him that Book was 1019. "Shepherd," he breathed eagerly, clutching to his frail hand tightly.

Book looked up at him, and after several seconds his eyes resolved into recognition. "They got you, too, my son?" he asked in a miserable voice. "No, no, my boy," he wailed and shook his head. "No." His grip tightened on Wash's but just for a moment.

"You're in front of me," Wash stated and lined Book up according to their numbers. "Where are we?" he asked in a whisper.

Book shook his head. "If we were lucky, this would be hell," he whispered back.

In front of them, the line was finished, and the proceedings began. Two orderlies grabbed the first man, 1009, and stripped him. A third orderly immediately stepped forward and shaved his hair and face clean. He was hosed down, his nails trimmed, and a new suit assigned to him. The process took only two minutes, and the line moved quickly.

"Where are the others?" Wash asked harshly, aware his time to speak was short.

Book shook his head. "Not here, we can hope," he answered with a fragile nod.

"Why don't they come for us?" he demanded and clutched at Book's hand tighter.

Book lifted his eyes to Wash, and the smile he gave looked like it had been cut out of the scorched earth itself. "They don't know we're here."

"But," Wash began to protest, "it's been a month," he added.

Book shook his head wretchedly. "They don't even know we're missing." He turned to look forward, watching the men in front of him as they were shaved.

Wash was silent for a time. He hadn't expected this reaction from Book. He had expected more vitality and hope. He had expected Book would have been relieved to see him and would have started plotting. He had hoped there would be a plan but Book seemed hardly able to talk, let alone walk. "What do they want from us?" Wash whispered fearfully.

Book turned to look at him, and his eyes were dark and unfathomable. "Information," he answered dryly. "Don't tell them anything."

"We have to get out of here. Now," Wash stated pointedly. "We have to escape."

Book actually laughed; it was a bitter and broken sound. "There's only one way out of here," he stated, "and it's not going to be while you're alive."

The man in front of Book stepped forward to get sheared, and a hint of panic rose in Wash's stomach; his time to talk to Book was fleeting. "What should I do?" he frantically asked the Shepherd.

"Pray to God for deliverance," Book answered with a peaceful tone. "Pray for death."

"I don't want to die," Wash protested weakly.

Book looked over his shoulder at Wash, his gaze intense. "You already have," he stated sorrowfully. Then the two orderlies grabbed him and dragged him forward. Wash stared as they stripped the preacher and shaved him. Naked, he appeared a horrible wreck, nothing more than a mass of skin and scars and bones.

They shuffled him out of the room, and Book didn't even try to look over his shoulder at Wash to say goodbye. They had Wash undressed and half shaved before he even realized he had been dragged forward. The water was ice cold but felt good and shocking against his nerve-deadened body.

He didn't resist; he just stood there while they efficiently cleaned him. It was only at the end when they handed him his new clothes that he looked down and saw the huge, thick purple circular scar on his chest. It was grotesque and bruised and yellowish on the edges. The sight of it was repellant and frightening. Yet, it was part of him, and he couldn't get away from it even though every cell in his body seemed to suddenly want to reject its presence.

He didn't know where it had come from or what purpose it served, but he knew it was not supposed to be there. Seeing it brought horrible, creepy feelings to him, ones he couldn't identify. His finger roughly touched it, and then he pulled his shirt over his head to hide it. They ushered him out of the room and led him back to his cell, but all he could think about was that scar. The blood pounding in his ears suddenly frightened him, and he didn't trust the beating of his heart as it steadily pumped behind that purple scar.

--

He wasn't sure how he managed to do it, but he held out for another month. He figured if he could do that, he'd get another chance to speak with Book. It would only be ten minutes, but he thought he could at least make some leeway in that amount of time. He needed to at least learn where Book was being held in relation to himself. Then if he ever broke free he could get to Book's cell, too, so they could escape together.

His vague plans for escape and the hope of seeing Book again were really the only things that kept him going. Thoughts of the outside world were too hard to remember. He knew the sky was blue, but he wasn't sure he remembered what that color blue looked like anymore. The Alliance didn't physically torture them, but they wasted them away, anyway. Their minds were going, and their bodies were crippling themselves in response.

He held on to hope, though. Book had been sick when Wash had seen him. He trusted that after Book realized he wasn't alone, he would have come around and realized they needed to help each other. Wash felt deeply that Book would have recovered and come up with a plan for escape when they met again.

When the next washing day arrived, he was excited for the first time since he could remember. He was led back out to the courtyard and made to stand with the other men. His eyes scanned for Book, but he didn't find the man. His spirits didn't plummet, though, until the washing began and Book still hadn't arrived.

A horrible, dull ache gnawed at him as he stared at the number 1018 in front of him. When he was taken and washed again, he turned around and stared at the man behind him. He was number 1022 and didn't react at all to Wash's staring at him.

Wash was back in his cell before he began processing it all. Book was gone, and so was 1021. Book had been 1019, he was 1020 and . . . and 1021 was missing, too. Who had been 1021?

He struggled to remember and knew he ought to, but he couldn't place a face. He just prayed that it hadn't been Zoe. A black despair gripped him, and some part of him deeply feared that had been her. The rest of him wondered what it mattered for, anyway. Book had prayed himself to death, and there was going to be no escape for him.

The next day, when they asked him about River, he told them everything he knew.

--

Time was impossible to measure. There was no sun, no windows, and no clocks. They didn't even have a lights-out period or a sleeping time. It was always bright and white, and he slept when he was tired. The daily interrogation sessions and the monthly cleaning operations were the only way he even could remotely keep track.

Eventually, though, the interrogations stopped. He was glad, because it was getting hard for him to walk to them. He had no mirror, but the way his legs looked to him, he knew he wasn't doing well. The men he had his monthly washing sessions with weren't any better looking. There were fewer men each time, too. Wash never spoke to any of them; his will to resist had long since been broken.

Day in and day out, he sat in his cell. Whatever information they had wanted from him had already been taken, apparently. They had no more use for him, but clearly he was too important to let go, so they held on to him. There were questions they had always asked him that he had no answers for. They wanted him to tell them about Miranda, but he knew no one by that name.

They wanted more information on Reavers, but what he told them did not satisfy them enough. They had questions on the Blue Sun Corporation as well as genetic and subliminal messages, none of which Wash could answer. They seemed to think he ought to know the answers and he overheard people suggesting that he had a mental block more than once. They apparently had hopes that someday he'd remember. He hoped he would, too, just so they could finally end him.

In the meantime, he rotted in his cell. After ten washing cycles, he got a roommate. It was a shriveled man who might have been twenty or fifty. Wash didn't pay much attention to him. The man seemed as broken and dispirited as he was. They lived together without ever once exchanging words for two more washing cycles.

Wash hadn't been able to keep track very well, but he had counted twelve cycles and figured that roughly constituted an earth-year. He wished himself a silent happy birthday after the twelfth cycle and began to finally pray for death that night.

The thirteen washing cycle came sooner than Wash had expected it to. He didn't count the days, but he was fairly certain his nails weren't as long this time as they had been all the previous times. Nevertheless, he didn't resist. Maybe after a year he had worn out his welcome and was finally going to be eradicated.

It was apparent almost immediately that this trip was going to be different. They didn't take his roommate, for one, and they walked past the doors that opened to the courtyard, hauling him further along the corridor. For the first time since his arrival, he was led into an elevator, and he stared at his gangly, blurred reflection in the polished steel door. He didn't know the old man who stared back at him.

When the elevator opened, Wash was assaulted with a myriad of lights and noise and colors. They were on another level where sunlight poured in through the windows and people worked desk jobs and wore normal clothes. The sights and sounds were so offensive at first that Wash nearly threw up.

They hauled him outside, and there he found several more men in his condition. They were all being loaded into a large, prison transport shuttle. Wash was handcuffed and then steered into line. He didn't resist. He had trouble just walking forward as they loaded; escaping wasn't an option.

Once inside, he sat on a cot while the shuttle took off. He counted people and found there were ten of them. Some of the men he recognized from his washing sessions, but most of them he didn't know. Once the ship was airborne, a strange lull seemed to come over him. He recognized it after a time as the purr of a ship breaking orbit into space. It was a joyous feeling for him, something familiar and comfortable, the first of its kind he'd experienced in over a year.

He turned to the man beside him. "Where are we going?" he asked, but his voice was brittle and sounded like crumbling leaves. The man he spoke to didn't even move.

Across the room, another man in the crisp white prison uniform answered instead. "Funding ran out," he answered quietly. "We didn't die."

"Wanted to," Wash replied and wet his lips, trying to work his voice back into a semblance of normalcy. He wondered how many months had passed before he'd tried to speak to anyone.

"Probably should have," the other man answered. "Don't know where we're going, but I bet it's not a better place than where we were."

Wash's eyes went out of focus, and the man blurred intensely. He leaned back against the wall and let the room spin. "Guess I can wait to die there instead."

--

He had no idea how long the journey was; he was only aware of it ending. They were led out like cattle into the harsh, desert sun. The ground was red and barren, and not even weeds grew where they stood. Overhead, the sun scorched down, and a planet hung in the sky. Wash squinted at all the color; his eyes ached.

Once they were unloaded, the Alliance officers went back on the ship. There was nothing said to them. They were just unloaded, and then the ship powered back up and rose into the air. It circled once and zoomed off into the horizon, leaving all ten of them stranded on a scrap of dirt.

Nine men sat down in the dust where they were deposited. Wash teetered for a bit and then raised his hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he squinted in the direction the shuttle had flown off.

"Alliance is too cheap to even spare a bullet to kill us," stated the man Wash had spoken to on the ship.

Wash turned to look down at him. "They didn't leave us any water," he said with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Because they want us to die of our own accord, so it's not on their consciences," the other man replied gruffly. He sighed and lay down, stretching out on his back. "Hate to play into their hands, but I think that's what I'm gonna do. Die right here."

Wash lowered his hand from his eyes. "I don't want to die," he stated. His legs gave out from under him against his own accord, and he collapsed to the ground. He sat there for a moment, and then his hand went out and scooped up a handful of red dirt. He smeared it into his white linens. "I want to live."

--

He spent the night rubbing dirt into his pants, and by morning they had turned a muddy red. It wasn't uniform or clean, but wearing a color other than the stark white pleased him greatly. He slept when the sun came up and only woke near noon when another transport came in. The fleeting hope that this ship would have food and supplies for them was quickly dashed as the Alliance officers marched off another ten white-clothed prisoners, all listless and empty-eyed.

The layover was short and fast, and the transport was taking off just as quickly as the first one had. When the dust resettled, there were now twice as many hungry, helpless men on the barren moon as before. Wash noticed, as the other men walked around trying to orient themselves, that two of the men who had arrived with him from the previous night had already died. One was the man he'd tried speak to on the transport.

By evening, they were all ravenous. They had gone two days without food, and it seemed like no one was coming to provide for them. Number 0987, the man who had replied to Wash on the transport, recruited two other men from the new arrivals, and they set off in the direction the ships had flown off, promising to return if they found a town or food or other provisions.

Wash watched them go and would have followed if his body had supported him. He found that if he stood or walked for more than ten minutes, however, his body would give out, and he'd collapse. He was in far worse shape than the three who had set out and knew his walking gait would have slowed them down, anyway. He had no desire to die, but it seemed they would all starve to death soon if they didn't do something.

Four more men had died by noon the next day when the prisoner transport arrived. Incensed, Wash clamored to his feet and demanded the Alliance officers provide them with food and water. He was easily shoved away, falling onto his backside, ignored. The Alliance officers loaded up the six dead men but said nothing.

The prisoners they unloaded this time wore slate blue. Their eyes weren't glassy, nor were their bodies fragile from atrophy. They were hardened criminals with unpleasant looking scars and violent tempers. They each had small packs loaded with their person effects as well--a luxury none of the other prisoners had had.

For the most part, the men Wash had arrived with didn't move or even acknowledge the new arrivals. They were dead and dying and didn't seem to care anymore. Wash, however, got back to his feet. He was dehydrated and hungry and very weak, but he felt he had to try. The prison transport ship flew off, and he soon found himself surrounded by twenty angry criminals, all of whom seemed extremely unhappy to be where they were.

"What's this?" one of the men asked. He directed his attention to Wash, as he was the only man standing who had been there prior to their arrival.

"The place where men go to die," Wash stated in his broken, dusty voice.

"Ain't planning on dying," the man replied. "Where's the warden?"

"Don't have one," Wash answered dustily. "What you see is all there is." He gestured lamely and felt his legs starting to tremble; he was going to fall over soon.

"No warden?" the man asked. "You mean we're I _free /I _?"

Wash managed a laugh and was surprised by it; he hadn't laughed in what felt like a lifetime. "If you consider starving to death to be freedom, then yes, you're free now. Congratulations."

The new arrivals all looked around them, taking in their bleak surroundings and the barrenness of the land. "There's no food?" one of them asked.

Wash gestured again. "Do you see any?"

The first man studied Wash carefully, taking in his thin frame and gaunt face. "How long you been out here?"

Wash stumbled a little and sat down as his legs finally gave out. "Four days, I think." He honestly didn't remember, nor did he particularly care.

A faint murmur went up among the new arrivals. "Without food or water?" the first man asked in disbelief, staring down at him skeptically.

Wash nodded. "Six have already died."

--

That evening was different than the previous ones had been. The criminals weren't passive like the others had been. They plotted and schemed and did not want to die out on this barren moon. After another of the men Wash had arrived with just fell over and died, a flurry of activity began.

Wash watched dully. His senses were no longer sharpened. His vision had been blurring on and off for months, but it seemed to have finally settled into a blurry state. He could think of little else beside how hungry and thirsty he was. Things glinted around him like little slivers of metal in the moonlight, but he paid them little mind. Voices murmured around him, but he ignored them as best he could. 

It wasn't until he heard, "We'll have to kill the pilot," that he came to.

"What?" he asked, staggering to his feet with a sudden, irrational fear for his life.

A group of the criminals had gathered in a small circle not far from him, and they were scheming. To his surprise, Wash realized that most of them held some sort of handmade weapon—knives made from carefully pressed, ration pack tinfoil and sharpened bits of cracked leather. They looked up at him as he stood. Their expression proved to him that they thought he was delirious; maybe he was.

"Transport comes tomorrow," one of them explained. "We're gonna kill the Alliance on it and take over th'ship."

"Get us off this rock," one of the other men said.

Wash tried to sort this out in his mind so it would make sense. He finally asked, "You're going to kill the pilot?"

The men nodded. "We'll have to. Can't risk him flying us back to prison or crashing the ship or something."

Wash's eyes widened as he looked at the blurry figures before him. He shook his head and blinked fiercely until they started to resolve into faces. "Can any of you actually I _fly /I _ a transport vessel?"

"Danes thinks he can," one man said, gesturing to whom Wash assumed was Danes. The man was burly and huge and seemed rather oafish.

"Stole shuttles back when I was a boy. How hard can it be?" he asked. His voice was low and gravelly.

Wash stared incredulously at them all. There was a host of things he wanted to say but he couldn't seem to phrase them. Flying shuttles wasn't the least bit like flying a transport vessel. If these guys managed to actually hijack the transport ship, they'd probably get a hundred yards away before they crashed and exploded. He wanted to tell them this, but all that he managed to blurt out was, "I graduated from the Orion Flight Academy!"

--

They fed and watered him with what they had in their personal packs. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd had in days, and it did well to revive him. By noon the following day, their plan of action was set. Wash wasn't to fight; he was too important to lose. The plan itself was crude—when one man gave the signal, all the other men would attack.

Wash didn't have high hopes for its success, so when they managed to slit the throats of all the Alliance officers and storm the ship, he was duly impressed. The new arrivals immediately caught on to what was happening, and with their added help, they were able to overpower the guards and take command of the vessel by sheer volume.

Those who wanted to come were loaded up. They spent several minutes raiding the food and water provisions, of which Wash got a fair share before he was steered into the cockpit to earn his worth.

He settled down in the pilot's chair and scanned the controls. It felt like he'd only ever flown ships in a past life, yet when he put his hand on the yoke, things seemed to come back to him automatically. His other hand began flipping switches, and the ship made noises that sounded promising—it was powering to life.

The prisoners crowded in the cockpit behind him and watched with baited breath as Wash worked out the sequences, and the roar of approval when he lifted the ship off the ground did much to revive his spirits. The feeling of soaring through the air in a ship was as life-giving to him as sucking water was after four days without it.

He was free. After over a year trapped in a strange medical facility and praying nightly for death, he was finally free.

--

They landed the ship in a remote area on a nearby planet. Towns were scattered around their location, and the plan was that several groups of men would set off in different directions to each of the towns—they'd have better chances that way and would look less suspicious. Wash considered staying with the ship and trying to find I _Serenity /I _ using its navigation system, but he knew that was a foolish idea. If he were captured again, he wouldn't get a second chance to escape.

Instead, they stripped the ship. About twenty men had escaped along with him, most of them with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and their few items in their bags. The things on the ship, if sold into the black market, might provide them with enough money to start a new life. Wash was given a fair cut of the items on the ship, as he had been instrumental to their escape and had been the only man from the medical prisoners to reach freedom.

Wash packed his things into an Alliance duffel bag and exchanged his white prison shirt for the gray, tank-style undershirt of an Alliance uniform. It didn't go well with his red stained pants, but it didn't have 1020 emblazoned on the back of it, either.

His bag was filled with a few ration packets, water, and several electronic items that most of the other prisoners didn't know were worth anything. It wasn't much, not by a long shot, but he hoped it would get him off the planet. His goal was to eventually reach Persephone City.

Standing in front of the ship, he inspected the horizon where he was supposed to be headed. He hoped their scans had been right, because he saw no sign of a town beyond him and didn't think he could walk too long to find it. Many of the other prisoners had already started off in separate directions, though, and there was no chance he was going to get to come back and check; the remains of the ship had been rigged to self destruct in two hours time. They wanted no clues left behind for the Alliance.

The two men heading to the same town as Wash came up beside him and nodded that they were ready to go. They started off, walking easily and eagerly towards their freedom. Wash sighed heavily and cast his eyes up towards the brilliant, blue sky, memorizing the color. He'd come this far already; he wasn't going to let a little walking keep him from the rest of his life. He hoisted his pack over his back and started after them.


	2. Chapter 2

Clemency was as backwater as any planet Wash had ever been on, but for a month it became his home while he attempted to sort out his life. He found it nearly impossible, because, according to all the records he could access, he was dead. The town on Clemency he had made it to, called Marshall Hill, had exactly one uplink to the Cortex, and the owner charged a credit for every five minutes Wash spent on it. And even so, it was a hot commodity, something he had to schedule time on far in advance.

His first priority had been to access his bank account; he needed new clothes and food, desperately. His accounts were locked to his access code, however. He took a little solace in the fact that, clearly, Zoe was alive and well, but it did not settle the uneasy feeling he had in his gut. His records stated he had died over a year ago, but nowhere he searched gave specifics.

That first day, confused about his supposed death, he had put in a call to _Serenity_ without thinking about it. He had hung up before the call had completed, however, suddenly aware that if the records said he was dead, then they probably thought he was, too. His desire to speak with his wife was great, but he didn't know if it was safe. The words of Book haunted him, too, as he remembered the man had known they were both dead and that was why the crew hadn't come to rescue them.

So he resisted contacting them and tried instead to research his dilemma. Those days dragged on into a week, and the most he discovered was the fact that _Serenity_ had been involved in some sort of illegal broadband broadcast that he had no recollection of. Reports varied on what it had been about, but somehow most of them seemed to imply that the crew had discovered a resort planet that had lost contact with the Alliance ten years ago; whether or not this was a good thing seemed debated.

It didn't make sense to Wash, and he determined to worry about it later, once he got in touch with the crew in person. He planned to do that on Persephone, and to get there he had to improvise. It was impossible for him to draw the funds he needed out of his bank account, and it was impossible for him to store the new money he acquired on a credit chip because he had no identity with which to credit.

Unable to proceed without funds, he went to the magistrate of the town to explain he was a new arrival from a rim world who had never been in contact with the Alliance before. They fingerprinted him and took his retinal scans, and when they asked him to sign his name, he wrote Tian Tuan Ti. It felt right to him, as he'd been called 1020 for well over a year, and at the same time, Tian—_sky_—felt somehow fitting and freeing.

With a name and a new identity card, he found life marginally easier. He sold his stolen Alliance items slowly over the course of a month and squirreled away as much of the money as he could, hoping to eventually afford passage to Persephone. He took menial jobs as he could when his health allowed it, and worked nights to stay as best he could out of the eyes of anyone who might be looking for him.

On the first day of the new month, he met the captain of a transport vessel who agreed to fly him into Persephone City's Eavesdown Docks in exchange for all the money he had saved up. Wash agreed quickly, despite the uneasy situation that would put him in when he arrived penniless.

The trip was going to take two weeks to arrive, and Wash arranged a deal where he'd work janitorial services on the boat during that course of time if the captain would cut the cost of his fare down. They came to an unwritten agreement so that when Wash finally set foot on Persephone, he would be rich enough to afford an order of dim sum and a soda.

He forewent food, hardly bothered by hunger anymore, and immediately set out writing a fake resume. With that in hand, he managed to convince the head postmaster at the post office the crew of _Serenity_ always got their mail from in the Eavesdown Docks to hire him on as a fulltime desk clerk.

The hours were long, but since he sat for most of them, he did all right. The job included lunch, insuring he ate well at least once a day, and he had easy access to the postal supplies. His first day on the job, he took a discarded crate, slapped a label addressed to _Serenity_ on it, and mailed it to their office. He took great delight in writing out the claim slip when it returned, knowing that in due time the crew would be forced to come in and retrieve it.

It took them six weeks to come.

By that time, Wash had already sent eighteen more letters into his post office, trying to create a large enough cache to entice them. In the end, he figured the last box he'd sent, branded with the warning, "Urgent – Perishable," was what had finally done it.

They came in, all of them, right after lunch. Wash watched them from behind his desk counter for several seconds, aware that none of them even noticed him. Mal wore a black shirt and his khaki war pants, keeping an aloof scowl on his visage as he looked over the interior of the mailroom. Zoe stood beside him, her hair pulled back from her face, her dress a standard navy blue shirt and leather vest. Seeing her again made Wash ache in a way he hadn't know he still could. She seemed as cautious about being in the room as Mal was; they clearly suspected something was afoot. Wash knew they'd never received eighteen packages at once before and figured that was it.

Jayne was bigger than Wash remembered and more lumbering. He seemed slightly less on guard than Mal or Zoe, probably because he half hoped one of the packages was for him. His style hadn't changed at all, and he was wearing an orange shirt Wash had seen him in many times before. Kaylee was smiles and sunshine, and her bright-eyed disposition made him see a bit of brightness that he'd forgotten existed in the world. She wore her standard green jumpsuit but had a very pretty pink and white silk Chinese shirt on over it. She hung back from Zoe, Mal, and Jayne, staying near Simon.

Simon was actually wearing darker clothes than Wash was used to—he had an olive green silk shirt with a black jacket over it. He seemed somehow thinner, and his face was gaunt. His eyes seemed the same, though, as he walked rather protectively beside Kaylee.

River brought up the tail, dressed in her ever-eccentric colorful skirts and sweaters. She had on combat boots and let her hair hang wild and limp, as she always had. There was a way she carried herself, though, that sat strange with Wash. She seemed somehow more self assured and aware of her surroundings than he remembered; she seemed older. Her eyes weren't narrowed and discerning like Mal or Zoe's, but it was clear she was taking careful assessment of the room and cataloging the contents.

Wash's manager went out and spoke to them, bringing out the first crate that had been sent to them as well as the other envelopes that Wash had mailed. Mal took them warily and then signed for them. He passed the envelopes out amongst the crew while he tackled opening the crate. Wash smiled to himself, watching as the empty items befuddled them all.

Once they had all peered into the empty crate with expressions of confusion and discarded the empty envelopes, Wash slipped off his stool and pushed through the door that separated his clerk room from them. The door creaked loudly, which collectively drew their attention to him. He smiled easily and said, "Hey guys. Been awhile."

He was met with a long stretch of silence as the six of them stared hard. He had played this scene over and over in his head during the past month, and every time it had unfolded with Zoe's eyes widening and then her flinging herself into his arms. In various scenes, she had even begun crying in joy at seeing him.

There had been a lot of hugging and crying in his daydreams, in fact, and usually it followed up with a good round of Welcome Home Sex back in his bunk on _Serenity_. There had been variations, of course, but none of them had included Mal and Zoe with their guns drawn on him, as they did now.

"Wash?" Kaylee asked, her voice light and confused. Her eyes quickly darted from Mal and Zoe to him and then back. "What's going on, cap'n?" she questioned nervously.

"Wonderin' th'same thing my own self," Mal stated coldly. "Who are you?" he demanded, his eyes never once leaving Wash's.

Wash raised his hands automatically because the last thing he wanted was to be shot. "It's _me_," he answered, hoping he sounded sincere enough. He knew he still looked sickly and thin, but for the most part, he thought he'd recovered enough that he looked the same. "And it's been hell trying to get in contact with you guys!"

"Wash is dead," Zoe plainly said, her gun still trained on him.

"No, see, I'm not!" Wash countered eagerly. "You guys thought I was, but I wasn't. The Alliance picked me up after you left, or something. I just escaped!"

Zoe arched an eyebrow. "You escaped from the Alliance?"

Wash's bravado started collapsing—he wanted to be hugging Zoe and melting into her arms, not trying to explain all of this. "It was awful, baby," he said brokenly. "They had Book, too, and he didn't make it," he added. His hands slowly dropped to his sides. "They just kept me in this little room, never let me out to do anything, and we hardly got any food or water—"

"Can it," Mal growled, cutting him off. "You can't be our Wash. I seen him die with my own eyes. Ain't no man could survive that."

"I don't . . . I don't exactly remember anything about that," Wash quickly explained. With great difficulty, he tore his eyes off Zoe and fixed them on Mal. "I woke up one day in this Alliance facility where they were keeping me and these other prisoners. The last thing I remember before that is leaving here on that run we did for Fanty and Mingo."

"And we just believe that?" Jayne asked speaking up for the first time. "Sure, and Mal rolled over this mornin' and made me cap'n," he grunted.

Mal reflected. "I'd believe Wash came back from the dead 'fore I'd believe that, Jayne," he stated. Then he added, "Not that I'm sayin' I believe you."

"Who would lie about this sort of thing?" Wash asked, his tone bordering on frightened.

River slipped between Jayne and Mal, and she raised a hand to touch Mal's sleeve. "Life is governed but by a delicate thread," she softly stated.

"What do you make of this?" Mal asked her.

She stepped forward, placing herself between the guns and Wash. As she did, both Zoe and Mal lowered their weapons. She approached Wash slowly, studying him like a cat might study a mouse. When she was close enough, her arm reached out, and she pressed her hand flat against his chest. Her eyes closed lightly. "I can't see him."

Mal's lips pressed together tightly. "You sent these packages?" he asked, and one of his hands picked up one of the empty envelopes.

Wash nodded, but his eyes were focused on River's face now; she still had a hand to his chest and her eyes closed, concentrating.

Mal tilted the writing on the envelope. "You're Tian Tuan Ti?" he asked and then looked up from the envelope back at Wash.

Exasperated, Wash answered, "I had to change my name. All my accounts have locked me out. I had no money and no identity. Ten-twenty was my prison number." He shifted. "Hey, stop that," he called as River started unbuttoning his shirt.

"He's not whole, anymore," she explained and pushed his shirt open to reveal the ugly, purple scar on his chest. It had marbled slightly over the past year. The yellow bruises had long since faded, but it remained dark and discolored.

Simon immediately pressed past Mal to approach Wash. His hand went out to touch the scar, and Wash's eyebrows furrowed. "Y'know, I make most men pay to do that," he stated softly, trying to joke.

"This is remarkable," Simon breathed, ignoring Wash's comment. "This isn't scar tissue," he explained and ran his finger along the edge where the purple flesh met with the healthy pink. "It's unlike anything I've ever seen."

"He's been fixed," River calmly stated and took her hand away completely. Her head shook, rippling her hair. "He's not whole yet, though."

The rest of the crew pressed forward to get a look. Wash paid no one any attention but Zoe. He kept his eyes trained on her, gauging her reactions. "Do you believe me now?" he asked aloud even though he was directing the question to Zoe specifically.

Simon and Mal exchanged glances. "I'd like to get him back to the ship to run a few tests," Simon stated.

Mal's eyes remained on Wash's face. "If you escaped from the Alliance, then why didn't you just call us up? You know _Serenity_'s codes."

Wash knew this was a test that he had to answer correctly to pass. He shrugged a bit, pulling away from the hand still exploring his scar. He began buttoning his shirt up again. "I did, at first. Then I thought about it and knew if you'd gotten a call from me claiming I was still alive, you'd never believe me, and I'd never get you to come for me."

"'Course you realize that also sounds like maybe you're an Alliance plant of some sort and you didn't know where we was, so you sent out a bunch of packages just so we'd come find you," Mal answered tersely.

"Cap'n, we can't just _leave_ him here," Kaylee said in a fearful voice.

Mal stepped back, assessing the situation. His eyes darted to Zoe, who had remained silent and unreadable this whole time. "Zoe?" he questioned.

"Sir?" she answered coolly.

"We take him back, run some tests; see what the doctor says?"

Zoe pursed her lips. "Don't like it, sir."

Mal nodded. "Y'never do."

"Can't just leave him here for the 'Lliance t'pick up again, though," Jayne offered.

"He's right. They'll know we had contact," Mal agreed. He kept his gaze on Wash.

"Why would the Alliance bring Wash back?" Kaylee asked, almost cowering behind Jayne.

"You got an explanation for that?" Mal asked him.

Wash's eyes darted between Mal and Kaylee, then he looked to River. "They wanted information on her," he said. "On River." He shrugged a little. "I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know, I don't think. When my information ran dry, they just left me to rot in my cell. Then their funding ran out or something, and I was transferred to . . . to a really low security place where we mounted an escape."

Mal wagged a finger at him. "We'll take you back to the ship, let the doctor scan you. We don't like what we see, we put a bullet to your head and keep doing so every time you come back after that, _dong ma_?"

There was a helpless look in Wash's eyes. "Have I really got any choice?"

--

"Artificial heart, partially reconstructed lungs," Simon said, pressing his cavity scanner against Wash's chest and staring at the display it showed of his innards on the nearby monitor, "and titanium retrofitted spinal cord implants. This is remarkable," he breathed, leaning in for a closer look.

Wash shifted uncomfortably on the examination chair, his eyes darting between Mal and Zoe, who were the only other people present. "So what're you sayin'?" Mal flatly asked.

Simon stared at the readout a moment longer and then shook his head. "This reconstruction is consistent to the crash—"

"I was in a _crash_?" Wash asked, his brows upturning in concern. "I died in a _crash_?"

"_You_ crashed us," Mal answered, not looking up from where he was staring at Simon.

"I don't believe it," Wash breathed.

Mal ignored him. " 'Consistent'," he repeated, "but what does that mean? Couldn't it be a mock up, made to look like his injuries?"

"That's a possibility," Simon agreed but then shook his head. "But not to this extent. You can replicate a broken arm or even mimic heart surgery scars, but to completely reconstruct to this degree? The work in his spinal cord is exquisite. That alone would have taken weeks, maybe months. I didn't even know the technology to do it existed."

"So it's fake, then?" Mal asked. "Or like what Tracey had?"

"No," Simon answered. "It's donor organs in some parts, skin grafts and clever replicates in others. I have no idea what they did for his central nervous system." He set his scanner down and picked up a small, slim, pen-shaped item and waved it over Wash's back. "Does it hurt to walk?" he asked curiously.

"Sometimes," Wash conceded. "And if I stand for more than twenty minutes or so, my legs just go numb and buckle."

Simon nodded, extremely fascinated but Mal wasn't interested in any of the fine details. "What's your verdict, doctor?"

Snapping out of his scrutinizing of Wash's reconstructed torso, Simon straightened up. "Well," he said, putting on his best professional guesswork voice, "if I had to make an officially ruling," he began.

"You do," Mal cut in.

"Then I'd have to say that what we have here is an absolutely remarkable example of surgery and science. If you'd asked me I would have said it never could be done, but this is proof," he waved a hand at Wash. "This is Wash."

Wash nodded and beamed eagerly up at his wife, but her expression remained stony.

Mal crossed his arms. "He was _dead,_ though. Put a beating heart in a dead man don't make him start breathing again."

"No, it doesn't," Simon agreed. "That's what so remarkable. The . . . the thread of life is delicate, like River said. But we've been restarting dead hearts for centuries. Granted, in those cases it wasn't much longer after the heart had stopped, but it's not so far fetched to believe that it could be done long after death; especially not if the body was kept preserved and the surgeons extremely skilled. The biggest concern I had is the preservation of the brain," he continued, turning his pen over and clicking on a small light to flash it in Wash's eyes. "But however they managed it, there isn't any damaged brain tissue that I can see. Deprived of blood and oxygen, the brain starts to deteriorate, but I can't detect any signs of trauma here." He stared at Wash in open awe. "Did they give you any sort of gamma or radiation treatments?" he inquired thoughtfully.

Wash shook his head negatively, but could tell that despite Mal and Zoe's reluctance to believe him, at least Simon now did. So he took his eyes off his wife and fixed them on the doctor. "It's good to be back home," he admitted with relief in his voice.

Simon nodded. "It's been . . . quiet . . . without you around," he noted.

Wash pulled his shirt back around and started to button it. That hadn't been the welcome home he'd been hoping for. "Am I free to go now, or do I need to pay a toll fee?"

Simon glanced up to Mal. "If he's going to stay on the ship, I'd like to recommend some exercises for him to run through to try to rebuild and strengthen his motor functions," he began. "He developed acute atrophy while he was in prison and who knows what else from this spinal cord implant. Much of it has been remedied, but if he hopes to regain full control of his body, he'll have to work at it."

"Fine," Mal stated after getting a confirmation look from Zoe. "You can stay, for now," he told Wash. "Don't mean I trust you though, least not yet." His eyes darted from Wash to Simon and then turned to go.

Wash finished buttoning his cheap, mail clerk shirt up and got to his feet, making an effort to stand stable on them. His eyes were soft on Zoe. "Baby, it's me," he said in a small, hopeful voice.

Astute in a way he'd never been before, Simon took stock of the situation and slipped away to work on something in the corner of the infirmary, leaving the two of them more or less alone together. Zoe just stared at Wash, her eyes flicking back and forth as she read his face. She shook her head. "Been a long year," she stated in a flat voice. "Been a long, lonely year." She turned and stepped out of the infirmary.

Wash followed, although, despite his efforts, his legs wobbled beneath him, and he had to cling to the infirmary door for support as he looked out after her. "It's been a long, lonely year for me, too, Zoe," he protested softly. "You've no idea."

Zoe reached the stairwell that led up to the galley. She rested one hand on the railing and then looked over at him. Her eyes were sad, but he detected no sympathy. "Can't just open up again. Not that easy."

She started up the stairs, and Wash pushed off from the infirmary door. "But it's _me_, baby. It's _me_ . . ." Wash's voice trailed off. Zoe continued her ascent quickly, effectually ignoring his protests.

--

Zoe didn't show for dinner that evening, and Wash found he wasn't surprised. Since their brief encounter in the infirmary earlier, he knew she'd be avoiding him, at least for a little while. Depressing as that thought was, he refused to let it keep him from soaking in the familiarity of the kitchen or the homey sounds of the crew eating around him.

He missed Book's presence even more than he had when the Shepherd had first departed, and he even missed Inara a little. He wanted more familiarity, and their absences were just heavy weights on his memories. Things had changed so much since he'd been gone that, despite how much some things hadn't changed, it almost seemed like he had wandered into a dream world.

There weren't glaring differences, but it felt like everyone had tweaked just a little—a year and some had rolled by without him—and he was confused as to who belonged where. The ship seemed darker somehow, too, as thought the lights had been dimmed or the color palette of the very universe itself had darkened.

River seemed better somehow. She wasn't as scattered and frightened as he remembered her always being. Her sentences were lucid, and Mal seemed to pay particular attention to what she said, clearly taking her suggestions as valid. Simon had become darker and carried himself heavier; his crisp, city boy style had worn down, and he had found comfort with the grit. He seemed at ease around Kaylee now, too, but Wash wasn't able to tell if they had become an item or not.

Mal had become much darker, more introspective and quiet. There was an impenetrable aura around him that came from fresher events than what Wash was privy to. There wasn't the jovial laughter at the table that Wash remembered fondly, nor the welcoming family atmosphere. Some part of him wondered if it was because he had been missing but he knew that the others had all been funny and family on their own, too.

Only Jayne and Kaylee seemed entirely unchanged. Jayne had the same bored expression on his face as he ate, and Kaylee still smiled sweetly and let her eyes sparkle. Battle had changed Simon, but it hadn't darkened Kaylee.

"It's just so nice having you back," Kaylee stated after she noticed Wash studying her. "Real unexpected, but nice."

Wash looked away from her and pushed his food around with his fork. "It's really nice to see you again too, Kaylee," he replied carefully. "Did I miss out on any exciting adventures while I was away?"

Kaylee smiled a nervous little smile and her eyes flickered to Mal. "Oh, you know, the usual." She laughed softly. "Crime and petty theft."

Wash nodded, suddenly aware that Mal had probably had a briefing with the rest of the crew while Simon had been running his tests. He figured that during that briefing Mal had probably said that he was potentially a spy, and therefore the crew was not to give any important information out around him. The thought rankled him enough that he almost slammed his fork down and stalked off. All that stopped him was that he had nowhere to go: Zoe'd locked him out of their quarters as well as their shared accounts. "So who's been flying _Serenity_ in my absence?" he asked and turned his gaze to where Mal was eating at the end of the table.

Mal lifted his eyes, but they weren't to meet Wash's. He focused them on River.

At first Wash didn't get it, but then it slowly dawned on him. He leaned forward in surprise. "River?" he questioned. "You're letting _River_ fly the ship now?" He laughed, unsettled. "What's next, Jayne doing Companion training?"

Jayne grunted and looked up, irritated.

Mal spoke before things could get ugly. "River's good at what she does. You know I wouldn't let anyone fly this boat I didn't trust."

Wash rested his arms on the table and sagged into them as he stared down at Mal. "But when did she learn to fly?" He looked to River apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm sure you're very good but—" he turned back to Mal, "does she even have a _license_?"

"No, she don't," Mal answered and set his chopsticks down. "But breakin' the law ain't hardly ever stopped any of us from doing anythin' before, has it? She's good at what she does, and we needed a pilot we could trust." He kept a hard glare on Wash. "That ain't gonna be a problem now, is it?"

Frustrated, Wash averted his eyes and stared down at his food. "No, sir."

"Good," Mal replied tersely.

Wash remained sullen as he finished his food. When the meal was eaten, the rest of the crew dispersed to do their assigned jobs, but Wash just remained where he was sitting at the table, staring down into his bowl of protein. It really was quite like he had entered some uncomfortable dream world where everything was turned upside down.

He didn't even know where he belonged at the moment. He felt like even sitting there in the middle of the kitchen was placing burden on the rest of the crew. He turned his hands over in his lap and stared at them. He flexed them and then clenched them into a fist, shaking his head. "I'm not the bad guy," he softly whispered.

He hopefully looked up as he heard feet approaching from the crew quarters. Kaylee stood in the doorway with a crate nestled in her arms. She smiled at him sadly as she navigated down the steps and set the box on the table. "Zoe wanted me to give you these things," she explained and pulled one of Wash's old Hawaiian shirts out of the box to show him. "She thought you might need 'em."

Wash studied Kaylee for several seconds and then nodded and got to his feet. "Thanks, Kaylee," he softly answered and crossed over to her and the box. There was nothing personal inside the container outside of assorted clothes, shoes, and undergarments; she hadn't even thrown in one of his dinosaurs. "Wish she could've given it to me herself."

Kaylee fidgeted a little and ran her fingers over the edge of the crate. "It's been a real hard year for all of us, Wash," she whispered. "Just give her a bit of time?"

"What else _can_ I do?" Wash questioned softly as he reached out and took the box.

Kaylee nodded a little and then brushed some strands of hair out of her face before she looked over her shoulder. "Cap'n said you could stay in the spare crew quarters. I set it up for you a little. It ain't much, but it could be home."

All Wash could muster was a wry grin. "It's like being single all over again," he noted mockingly. "Only this time, you guys all trust me even less than before."

Kaylee's hand went out to cover his on the box. Her fingers were light at first and then she squeezed his hand, reassuringly. "Cap'n's got some issues t'work out, yet, Wash. It ain't your fault." She looked up into his face and didn't flinch away when he met her gaze. "Zoe's gonna come around, I know it. The rest of us, though, we believe you. It's just so shockin' and all, y'know?" She gave him a little grin. "C'mon, cheer up. I'll help you settle in, if you'd like. We could talk."

Wash clutched the box to his chest and stepped away from her and her soft hand. "No thanks, Kaylee," he whispered. "I think I just want to be alone right now." He started for the stairs and wondered if he'd be able to navigate his wobbly legs down the ladder to get into his old quarters. "I appreciate it though."

Kaylee turned so her back was to the table and she watched Wash uncertainly. "Sure, no problem. Call me any time you need anything, all right?"

"Okay," Wash replied and turned to press in the door of his bunk. He dropped the box down the shaft and then slowly lowered himself down the ladder. The interior of the room was sparse and barren without a single shred of personalized decoration to be found. It was hard to believe that he had once had this bunk nicely decked out with a great tropical theme, complete with dinosaurs and posters.

He kicked the box aside and closed the door over head. The bed had a standard army green blanket over it, and he planted himself face down on top of it. He wondered darkly if he fell asleep here and never woke up, if anyone would notice or even care.


	3. Chapter 3

"You can't avoid me forever, you know."

Zoe drew herself up short and turned to look back at Wash. She had walked right past without seeing him standing in the shadows of an alcove in the galley. "Ain't avoiding you," she pointedly stated.

Wash stepped forward and shook his head. "You've hardly spoken to me at all since I got here," he countered softly. He wasn't angry, just confused and a little more than hurt.

There was a silence as Zoe studied him, taking in his familiar features: the way he'd trimmed and styled his hair to look like how it used to, the way his eyes let her in, the faint curve of lips that looked like the ones she remembered kissing. Then she let the changes register, too: the haunted look in his familiar eyes and the circles beneath them, deep and sallow, the way his favorite Hawaiian shirt now hung shapelessly on his too-thin frame. His skin seemed waxy and ashen, and beyond that, he had a sour aura like he'd sat out in the sun too long or hadn't seen it near enough. "Ain't got nothin' to say," she finally replied.

Wash shook his head. "I don't believe that. There's so much I want to say to you, to tell you and be told by you. How have you been? What've you been doing since I've been gone? How did you cope? Did you buy anything new? Tell me anything, Zoe. Tell me when you last cut your toenails or took out the garbage." His voice was pleading. "It doesn't have to be your deepest darkest secrets. I know Mal told you not to talk to me about that stuff. I don't _care_ about that stuff. I care about _you_."

Zoe stepped backwards until her backside brushed against one of the chairs at the table. She wasn't frightened of him, but she had no desire to draw into him, either. "Wish it were that easy," she replied at last. "Wish I could just pretend."

"Why can't you?" Wash pleaded. "I'm willing to be patient. God knows I've waited long enough already, but I have to know you'll at least try."

She shook her head. "Can't make promises," she answered coolly. "Ain't going to be liable for breakin' them."

Wash's hands clenched and unclenched into fists. "I just need something, Zo," he quietly whispered. "_Anything._"

Her gaze on him was unwavering and firm. After a moment she said, "Then I recommend you find something to live for that ain't me." She slid to the side, away from him and the chair. "Otherwise you'll only be disappointed."

He let her go because there was nothing he could say to that. He didn't want to be back where he was, but he knew he couldn't press her into changing. She had become this way over the past year, and it would probably take her another year to get out of it, if she did at all. He thought he could wait.

It wasn't easy, though. When he'd first met her, he'd been single and anxious, but he hadn't acquired the knowledge of having had her. He hadn't just spent a year in prison dreaming on her then, wishing he'd be freed just so he could be reunited with her. When he had first come aboard _Serenity_ so many years ago, Zoe had been an almost intangible dream to him. Now he knew everything he was missing, and his want for it was that much more acute. He needed her now in ways he had never needed her back then.

If she'd been with another man, at least he could have accepted her actions as being torn out of loyalty. He would have been hurt, perhaps even more so than he was now, but he would have been able to understand. What stung now was the fact that nothing stood between them except some invisible barrier she had erected. The fact that he could have her and yet she wouldn't let him made his stomach clench and roll.

He quickly pulled out the chair she'd been leaning against and sat down in it before his legs gave way underneath him. He bowed his head and rested it on his folded-up arms on the table.

That's where Simon found him fifteen minutes later.

"Wash," he began, approaching quickly, his voice concerned, "you were supposed to come down to the infirmary half an hour ago for your check-up."

Deadened eyes looked up at Simon as Wash lifted his head. "Sorry, lost track of time."

Simon drew to a halt beside his chair. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked after glancing around the table, noting that there was no food or paperwork or anything else present to be occupying his attention. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Wash answered easily. He had sat long enough staring and feeling sorry for himself. He could shut himself down emotionally if necessary to function. He could be cold and hard just like Zoe, if that was what he had to do to survive now. "We can do the check-up now, if you want." He pushed the chair back and dragged himself to his feet.

Nodding slowly, Simon took a step back. His eyes flickered to the engine room for a moment, as though perhaps he had had something else in mind at first, and then he shook his head. "All right. It shouldn't take too long."  
--

"Have you been sleeping well?" Simon asked after he had run his scans and set them to process. Wash sat uncomfortably on the examination table while Simon wrote with his pen on his data pad.

"Not really," he replied in a soft voice. "It's not that I don't want to, it just seems I don't." He rubbed his arm slightly where it stung from where Simon had drawn blood.

"I could give you a smoother to help you sleep at night," Simon said easily. "Come see me before you sleep, and I'll administer something, if you'd like." He looked up from his writing. "Do you dream?"

Wash sighed and let his eyes drift around the infirmary. He was tired of all the questions already. He was broken, and Simon wanted to fix him, but he found he really didn't care about himself anymore. "Sometimes. The usual type."

Simon jotted something down and then turned to check on the status of the tests he had run. They hadn't finished processing, so he turned back to Wash. "Well, outside of your legs being weakened, is there anything else I ought to be specifically aware of?"

Wash shrugged. "I told you my eyes sometimes blur," he replied without much conviction. "And I don't remember how I died or any of the events surrounding that time period." He raised a hand and flexed it out in front of him, watching his skin as it stretched taut over bone. "I forgot my mother's name, too."

Simon's eyebrow arched up at that. "But you remembered it?"

"No," Wash replied and rested his hand back in his lap. "I looked it up on the Cortex."

Curious at this, Simon nodded and wrote some more things down. "I guess there is some minor brain malignance. It's not uncommon to forget things like this after trauma or injury, though. It's rarer for it to last this long, but you've not been in very good conditions for recovery." He set his data pad down and pressed a few buttons on the computer that was running his tests.

It blinked a few times and then let out a soft chirping noise. "Well," he said, scanning over the test readouts, "nothing seems to have changed overnight, which isn't a bad thing." He turned back to Wash. "I want you to make sure you eat three meals a day, all right? You need to regain your mass, even if you're not hungry. It's very important, as you're much too underweight right now."

Wash nodded only half listening.

"As for your muscles, I'm going to have to start you on physical therapy." He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "The only way to get your legs to withstand your weight again is if you rebuild the lost muscles in them. Ideally, I'd have all sorts of specialized medical equipment that could assist you with this, but this isn't the ideal world. We have to make due with what we do have."

Wash let his head turn so he was actually looking at Simon this time. "Which is what?" he asked plainly. "Do I get to start lifting cans of protein?"

Smiling at that, Simon shook his head. "Fortunately, no. We've actually got a fairly complete weight set down in the cargo bay. I've written up a regime that I think will prove beneficial to you. I'd like you to run through it twice a day for three days and see how that works for you." He took his data pad, inserted it into a slot at the bottom of the monitor, and then pressed a few buttons. "It'll be difficult at first because many of your muscles have completely worn down, but they should rebuild quickly."

Within a few seconds, the monitor hummed and then spat out a paper readout. Simon took it and handed it to Wash. "You might be able to handle more weight in the beginning, but I don't recommend you overexert yourself. It's better to do fifty sets of ten pounds than ten sets of fifty pounds."

The paper was still warm from as Wash studied it. The figures seemed large and the amounts lengthy, but at least it would give him something to do instead of depreciating in depression and boredom by himself. "Fine, great," he muttered.

Simon pulled the data pad out of the computer and scanned over it again. "I'd like to keep running tests on you. I'm not entirely sure all your ailments are due to muscle atrophy. If there is a single faulty connection in your reconstructed nervous system, it could be affecting how you walk. We'll try this physical therapy regime, but if that doesn't clear up the weakness with your legs, it might be a miswired conduit in your spinal column, which could require extensive tests to determine where, as well as potential surgery to correct."

"That's great, Simon," Wash said quickly. "You do that. It's all gibberish to me though, you know? Just tell me if anything changes." He got to his feet and looked the doctor over. "If there's nothing else then, I'll go get started on this." He waved the piece of paper with the physical therapy instructions on it.

Simon shrugged. "Don't overexert yourself," he answered softly. "Take it easy."

Wash stared at him for several long seconds and let Simon know in that moment that it would be impossible for him to 'take it easy.' He didn't say anything, though; he just stepped out of the infirmary and carefully navigated himself around the passenger lounge until he was at the stairwell heading down into the cargo bay.  
--

It was cold and quiet in the cargo bay, and Wash found that he rather liked it. It had none of the sterile whiteness that reminded him of his prison cell, and its openness gave him a sense of freedom, however false it was. The silence wasn't even an issue because beneath the quiet was also the low thrum of Serenity around him. She had changed, too, while he had been gone. She had been hurt and rebuilt and changed.

Unlike the others, though, she was still trustworthy and familiar. Her changes were all superficial and easy to understand and accept. She hadn't changed so much; he knew if he ever got to sit behind her controls again, he'd discover how much she had missed him and how much she had remained the same.

His fingers traced the railing on the stairwell as he descended into the depths of the ship. The metal was warm under his fingers, heated by the lights overhead. The rest of the cargo bay was cold, and he found the contrast familiar and comforting for reasons he couldn't even explain.

He had never taken much comfort here before—his quiet, personal time had always been spent on the bridge. He had seen the cargo bay solely as a place for cargo storage and occasional recreation. It had been Jayne's territory and Book's. He had utilized it as necessary, but he had never understood why anyone would want to come here to think or be alone.

Now he understood why. He was beneath the ship, under the rest of the vessel for the most part. He was at the furthest point he could get from anyone else on the boat without actually disembarking. The walls hummed here in a way that they didn't hum on the rest of the ship, and the openness was important to keep claustrophobia away.

He wasn't comfortable here, but he found that being in the belly of _Serenity_ did have some calming effects on him. At least he was able to appreciate the location in a way he had never done before. He hadn't visited the cockpit since he had returned, but the thought of returning to it seemed to fill him with a sense of irrational dread. He desperately wanted to fly the ship, and yet he feared to enter the cabin.

He pushed down the fear and the questions that fear raised in him as he stepped off the stairwell and started toward the weight set. It lay cold and dormant beneath one of the catwalks, and Wash realized slowly that he'd never used it, or if he had, those memories had been forgotten.

The weights were set for Jayne, and it took almost as much effort to remove the current set-up and replace them with lighter amounts as it did to perform the first repetition. Simon's therapy plan had him doing squats and lunges to rebuild strength in his thighs and calves, as well as a few rounds of curls and lifts for his arms. It had seemed easy at first, but very quickly Wash's weaknesses became apparent.

He was to do two rounds of fifty of each set. It seemed like a doable amount on paper, but after his legs had done fifty squats, he thought he'd truly collapse from fatigue. The thought alone that he had to follow that up with a hundred lunges and another set of squats about did him in. He set the dumbbells down on the bulkhead and sat heavily on the bench press to catch his breath for five minutes.

He pressed on after that, struggling through his arm sets while sitting. When he finished fifty of each, he felt like he was made of gelatin. Standing again, he was surprised to find his legs still supported him. He wanted to stop and throw the towel in, but he pressed on. He bottled his anger and fears and tried to press them to goad him on. He got another set of lunges in but on number thirty-four of his last set of squats, his legs trembled beneath him and buckled.

He fell hard onto the steel floor grating. His arm twisted lightly where he fell due to the weights he was holding. For a long time he just lay there, gasping to catch his breath and struggling not to hate himself entirely for his weakness.

Eventually he let go of the weights and let them sit where they were on the floor. He rolled over onto his back, feeling too weak to even sit up. He stared up at the ceiling and lights overhead and wondered what he thought he was doing there. He was too weak to lift two ten-pound weights for more than fifteen minutes. He ought to be in a hospital, not out in deep space with people who didn't want him around.

He'd been effectively replaced by River and was no longer needed to fly. Zoe had gotten over his death and closed herself off; she didn't need him anymore. Mal had darkened and become even less trusting, and Wash found he wasn't really blaming him anymore. The universe was a dark place. Simon spoke to him, but his tone was always clinical and he remained solely impressed by the implants in his body; it made Wash feel like a piece of meat; a specimen to be studied.

Jayne hadn't said more than ten words to him since he'd shown up again, and Wash was hardly surprised about that. Kaylee seemed to be the only person he had any sort of hope to talk to, and yet her pained expression when she looked at him made him not want to burden her with his problems. The universe hadn't darkened Kaylee yet, and Wash didn't want to be the one to sully her.

He raised his hands from the floor and rested them lightly over his chest. Beneath his shirt he felt the welt of his scar and lightly dug his fingernails into it through the fabric.

He had been a fool to come back here or to think that things would be the same. He had known time had passed and it was likely people would have changed, but he never dreamed that he would have come home to find himself so unwelcomed.

Tightly closing his eyes, he squeezed out the fear and the hopelessness and the engulfing panic that threatened to consume him. He fought it and pushed it down, trying to bottle it up again. He wanted to be stronger than this and to overcome it. Despite the fact that he couldn't get Zoe to tell him even one personal detail about her life, he wanted to believe he could salvage their relationship. Despite the fact that he couldn't get through one twenty-minute workout of physical therapy sets without collapsing, he wanted to keep trying until he could.

He wanted to survive just as fiercely as he wanted to give up.

Those conflicting issues met and converged in his head while he slept, battling uneasily over and over in his psyche and leaving him unsettled and empty when they departed. He awoke cold, the dull feel of a weight pressing against his side. His head ached from where he'd hit it on the floor grates when he'd fallen and from the nightmarish visions he'd had while dreaming.

His eyes opened slowly and, for a time, were out of focus. He blinked furiously up into the lights and shadows above him and resolved the shape overhead. It turned out to be a mildly concerned-looking Jayne peering down at him and nudging him with the toe of his boot.

"Hell, thought you died again, little man," he grunted gruffly and offered a hand down to help Wash back up to his feet.  
--

Wash woke with a start the following morning. His eyes flew open as he stared up at the ceiling of his bunk. The ship had just broke atmosphere, and the familiar hum of _Serenity_ in space had shifted to the trembling of being airborne. The change made his stomach roll, largely because he wasn't in control of her descent. He started to sit up and then groaned loudly and collapsed back on to his bed.

The physical therapy set last night had wiped him out, and his entire body screamed in protest at moving. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to channel the pain elsewhere so it wasn't consuming him. After about ten minutes of this, he was able to sit up. One hand thickly clutched at the side of his bed and the other went to his head, which was pounding. He felt like he had a hangover.

Looking around his empty quarters he half wondered if he did. The events of last night were hazy after the work out. Deciding not to dwell on them, he pushed off the bed and went to relieve himself. Splashing cold water in his face did much to revive him, though he didn't pause to reflect on his gaunt features in the mirror. He just dressed slowly and sat to pull on his boots.

By the time he'd made it up the ladder and into the galley, the ship had landed. He could see sunshine streaming in from the cabin, but he turned his back to it and the pilot, River, and instead slipped down the stairs into the kitchen instead. Kaylee sat in one of the lounge chairs nursing a cup of coffee and reading a well-worn magazine.

In times of old, he could have gotten down the stairs silently, but today he clamored and made more noise than he wanted to on his descent. Kaylee looked up at him and grinned brightly when she saw him. "Hey, Wash!"

Wash ignored her for a bit as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. Once he had done so and taken a sip, he nodded. "Hey," he muttered.

She folded her magazine up and tossed it on the small table in the lounge before getting up and crossing to him. "Y'all right? Look a bit bed-raggled."

"Just woke up," Wash explained and shifted his weight to stretch out the muscles in his back. "Worked out last night, too. Real sore."

Kaylee nodded understandingly. She approached him and ran a hand through his hair, trying to straighten it a little. "Y'got bed head," she explained cheerfully.

Wash tried on a smile but found it didn't fit and let it drop. He pressed past Kaylee, limped over to the table, and pulled out a chair. He sank heavily into it but looked back over to Kaylee after he had. "Well, that's because I just got out of bed."

Kaylee leaned against the counter, still holding her mug, and nodded. "Can I get y'something t'eat? Ain't got much, but you ought t'have something."

"Sure," Wash murmured and turned back to look at the table in front of him. He rested his coffee mug on the surface. "Surprise me."

"Okay!" Kaylee cheerfully called. She set down her mug and went around the counter so she had access to the stove.

Wash listened to her bustling for a little and tried to find the familiarity he'd felt in the galley yesterday, but it remained elusive. There was a sizzling noise on a pan and then the smell of grease assaulted his nose. He ignored it as best he could and took a drink from his black coffee. "Where is everyone?" he questioned after a bit.

"Oh, Cap'n's had a job t'run, y'know. He and Zoe and Jayne went down to drop off some merchandise we picked up from Badger while on Persephone." She paused a moment to concentrate on her cooking and then added, "they ought t'be back before too long. Weren't supposed t'be a hard job."

Wash shook his head, trying to clear the hurt that they went to run a job without even bothering to inform him of it. "When has that ever been the case?"

Kaylee smiled to herself and resumed cooking. "Well, we'll just have to keep hoping that one of these days it'll go according to plan. It has happened before."

She trailed off slightly as River appeared in the doorway from the cabin. She looked carefully at the two people present in the galley. Wash met her gaze and then looked back down at his coffee. He was aware, nonetheless, that she turned her stare from Wash to Kaylee and that she gave Kaylee the same sort of disapproving glare she'd given him.

River tilted her head a little and then seemed to decide against entering the room more fully. She stepped back out into the crew quarters without saying anything and disappeared down the corridor that led to her room.

"What's with her?" Wash asked once she'd left.

Kaylee looked up, and there was a hint of darkness in her eyes that quickly faded. "Oh, she don't trust me much no more. Probably don't trust you none yet, neither."

Before Wash could ask what had happened between the two girls to make River so untrusting, he was greeted by Kaylee bringing over a plate of food and a fork. She set the plate down in front of him and slipped into the chair beside him. "We sure do need some of your old humor on this boat," she stated and rested her hand in her hair, leaning against her arm on the table.

Wash looked down at the food with a dour expression and picked up the fork lethargically. The thought of eating it revolted him but he wasn't going to resist, not with Kaylee sitting right beside him. "Afraid I'm not too funny these days, Kaylee," he mused softly before taking a bite of the scrambled egg protein.

"Seems like the whole 'verse ain't so funny anymore, Wash," Kaylee forlornly stated. "Wonder when that happened." She absently reached out to play with one of the spice shakers on the table.

"When did it?" Wash questioned curiously. He took another drink from his coffee. "Things were dark when I left, but they weren't like this."

Kaylee sighed. "Well, you'n'Book dyin' didn't help none. Then the whole thing with Miranda and River and all . . . none of that set well with the Cap'n." She glanced at him through a curtain of chestnut hair. "Funny the way a cap'n's attitude'll set the mood for the whole crew, but it's true. Cap'n' ain't happy, then the rest of us can be, neither. It's like galactic law."

"You're happy though, Kaylee. You're always happy."

The silence that statement was met with caused Wash to look up and over to Kaylee in concern. She was staring hard at the spice shaker in her hands. Her lips were moving a little like she was going over phrases in her head, but she said nothing. Finally she whispered, "Yeah. I'm always happy. That's me: happy Kaylee."

"What happened with Miranda and River?" he quietly asked, keeping his voice low.

Kaylee turned to look at him, her eyes a little vacant. "You really don't remember nothing, do you?" she questioned.

Wash shook his head and wondered if she'd actually tell him. "I've tried so hard, but I just can't."

Kaylee averted her eyes, fixing them back on the shaker. "Cap'n warned us not to tell you," she explained softly. "He ain't sure you're . . . y'know, _you_. Thinks maybe you're tryin' t'get information about all that from us." The shaker twisted beneath her fingertips. "Fact of the matter is, though, I don't remember all too much, neither. Not stuff that'd make the Alliance want t'bring y'back from the dead t'get it, leastways."

Wash shifted in his seat a little, turning towards her so they were facing each other. It gave them a little makeshift private space in the middle of the kitchen. With their voices lowered, they'd at least be minimally protected from anyone else who happened by and looked in on their conversation. "I need to know this, Kaylee," he whispered. "It's like months of my life have just been stolen from me."

She bit her lip when she looked up at him, studying his face carefully. Her voice was the ghost of a whisper when she spoke. "I barely know, Wash. We followed this plan," her voice dropped even more, "River told us about." She looked about the galley hesitantly and then continued. "Found this dead planet, Miranda.

"It was all empty but used to be all shiny, like a resort world. Dunno why River needed to show it to us, but she did, and then we had to go tell other peoples we'd found it." Kaylee wrung her hands a little and pushed the shaker away from her. Remembering and retelling this story was obviously unsettling to her, although Wash couldn't pinpoint why exactly that was. "So, we fly off, and we get chased; people don't want us telling secrets, or whatever. You crashed _Serenity_."

Wash's eyes widened at this. He'd heard as much from Simon and Mal the previous day, but to have it corroborated didn't sit well with him. "Must've been some chase," he breathed softly.

"Yeah," Kaylee whispered. "We spun out of control'n'everything. When it was all over and we were running away, I realized you weren't with us." She stared hard at the wood grain of the table. "Zoe was real hard; said you weren't coming."

One hand of his rose to his chest lightly, pressing against the wound there. "Guess shrapnel that big would've prevented that."

"Yeah," Kaylee trailed off. "Hasn't been the same since."

Silence stretched out between them for a while as Wash contemplated this and Kaylee relived the memories. "How did Book die, then?" he questioned softly.

"Alliance got him," Kaylee quietly answered. "They got a lot of people when they was lookin' for us. Cap'n tried t'not let it bother him, said it was their fault'n'not his that people were dead, but it weighed on him real heavy. It all weighs on him heavy."

Wash fidgeted and stared down at his food. "Almost glad I don't remember now."

Kaylee pressed her lips together and then shook her head. "Just don't seem right, somehow. All that work we did tryin' t'get the word out 'bout Miranda, and for what? Lost you'n'Book, and it didn't seem t'change the 'verse much."

The silence returned, hanging heavily between them. There seemed to be some missing element that neither of them knew to complete the puzzle. Wash was at a loss for what to say. He reached under the table, found Kaylee's knee, and squeezed it weakly, trying to be comforting. "Some good had to have come from it," he began.

Kaylee looked to him intensely and then shook her head. "If so, I don't know 'bout it."

She shifted her knee out of his reach and scooted her chair back. "You ain't the only one broken on this boat, Wash. Not sure how th'rest can hope t'fix you if they can't even fix themselves." She wrung her hands a bit more and got to her feet.

"Wait," Wash began, piecing things together slowly. He pushed his chair back, standing, too. "Are you talking about Simon now?" Kaylee waved her hand a little, and Wash was suddenly aware that she was on the verge of tears. Kaylee crying terrified him, and he floundered, trying to back pedal away from the strange turn the conversation had taken. "That is, well, people need time—"

"It don't matter now, does it?" she asked rhetorically, cutting off his weak attempts at turning the conversation. "None of it matters any more."

"It does matter," Wash began helplessly. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but her words rang out at him—how could he hope to fix her when he couldn't even fix himself? He didn't even know what was wrong with her. Furthermore, how could she pretend to try to help him when she was so broken that she wasn't even letting other people see that she was? "Kaylee—" he began but the sound of voices and footsteps approaching from below decks silenced him.

Kaylee sniffled pathetically and then stepped away from the table. "I've got," she began and waved towards the engine room. "The carburetor needs calibratin'n'I gotta make sure the shocks're aligned…" She trailed off, staring vacantly at Wash. They were both wearing masks and playing roles now. She didn't need to come up with a litany of excuses to run away from him.

Wash didn't say anything. He just looked back at her and ached at the sorrowful feelings her vacant expression filled him with. She turned away, lips pressed together, and reasserted her thoughts. A smile as sunny and cheerful as any he'd ever seen her wear before graced her lips, and her eyebrows went up, bright and curious. "Don't want t'be seen slackin' on the job none!" she gaily stated. She turned and vanished into the engine room just as Mal, Jayne and Zoe appeared from the stairwell behind him.

Wash turned slowly to take in the three newcomers. They looked healthy and uninjured, which was a relief to some degree. They had been in the middle of a conversation about the job, but they trailed off when it was noticed that Wash was standing right there.

Mal recovered first, coming down the steps two at a time. "Good t'see you finally decided t'join the land of the wakeful," he commented as he stepped behind the counter to look around for any leftovers of what Kaylee had just made.

Jayne sniffed the air, and his eyes quickly narrowed on Wash's mostly uneaten plate of protein eggs. "Y'gonna finish that?" he questioned without looking at him.

Wash moved away from the table, distancing himself quickly from Jayne.

Behind him was the engine room with a Kaylee he didn't know. To his right was Mal, Jayne was to his left, and before him stood Zoe—he felt impossibly trapped. He fought over where to go and what to do, finally deciding escape to the cargo bay would be the best option. It meant pushing past Zoe to get free, but he could manage that.

Screwing up his nerve, he stalked forward two steps before his legs buckled and gave out beneath him. He crashed face first into the galley floor.


	4. Chapter 4

"You know, these bi-weekly check-ups are starting to get really old," Wash commented darkly as he rolled the sleeve of his jumper down and rubbed his arm where Simon had just drawn his blood.

Simon didn't bother looking up at him as he slipped the vial of ichors into the testing chamber and switched it on to process. "You want to get better, don't you?" he questioned unconcernedly.

Wash shifted on the chair, keeping his eyes on the door and off of Simon. "I _am_ better. We've been doing these check-ups twice a week for a month, and nothing has changed." He looked over as Simon turned to the computer and imputed some information onto it. The doctor studied the read out there and seemed far more interested in its display than in his patient. Wash turned away, staring at his feet and said, "I feel like a _shang di zhou ma_ circus act that you just like to gawk at."

That caused Simon to glance up at him briefly, although his face kept its unreadable expression of professionalism. "Your condition is rare and of concern to me. I show interest in you so often because nothing like you has ever been publicly recorded, and I can learn a lot from studying your reconstruction. I don't want to do anything that might jeopardize your health, or _not_ do anything that might adversely affect you.

"And you have changed: you're not collapsing as much, your vision doesn't blur except in rare occasions now, you've gained a significant amount of weight, and your disposition seems overall, though apparently not right now, brighter. I'd say those were all extraordinary accomplishments for a man who was dead some sixteen months ago."

Closing his eyes against Simon's inane forwardness, Wash sighed. "I meant that nothing has changed for the worse. I'm better, or getting better." He wriggled his healthy little fingers at the doctor. "Can't we at least push these tests back to just once a month?" Off Simon's disapproving look, Wash countered. "Once a week?"

"I'm still worried," Simon answered easily, ignoring Wash's bitterness. "You've not remembered any of the events you've forgotten. And your health has improved, but it's hardly recovered. You can't expect to do one month of physical therapy and get back what you lost over a year."

"I'm not saying I want to stop getting check-ups," Wash complained. "It's just that twice a week seems like overkill."

"I'm your doctor, Wash, and I just have your best interests in mind. Don't you trust me?"

Wash's eyes narrowed instantly at that, and he looked hard at Simon. He could tell immediately that Simon regretted the phrasing of his sentence. For a second, Wash waited for him to recant or apologize for it. When he didn't, Wash let his anger at the phrase boil over. He slipped off the examination chair and spun to face Simon, his voice angry and heated when he spoke. "I'll come back when you start trusting me. How's that?"

"Wash--" Simon started to softly protest.

He was cut off by Wash raising a finger and pointing it accusingly at him. "You don't need to see me this often and I know it. You just feel your position on this ship is jeopardized when no one is getting hurt. River is all better so you can't poke and prod on her anymore, and now you've got nothing to do."

"That isn't true!" Simon retorted, appalled, his face finally cracking into a look other than stoic professionalism.

Wash continued, "I'm your little boon because if you think you're fixing me, and if the crew thinks you're fixing me, the better you feel about _yourself_. Well, I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of your clinical indifference. Find someone else to mess around with because I had my fill of doctors in prison."

"These sorts of mood swings are exactly why we need these bi-weekly check-ups," Simon protested calmly. "Just settle down. I'll give you something to quell the anxiety," he suggested hopefully.

"There are people on this boat who need you to fix them more than I do. So far, nothing you've done has even remotely helped me out; you're just _jiao ao_ enough to think it has," Wash countered hotly.

Simon's brow furrowed. "What're you talking about?"

"You're too dim to even notice it, which is just fine by me, but since other people are helping me more than you are, I'm just going to let them keep doing their thing. Why don't you try using your arts on fixing this issue between you and Kaylee and River?" Wash gave a feral grin at the way that statement made Simon's back straighten up.

The doctor stumbled for words for a few moments. "Kaylee and I…" he began and then trailed off. He reasserted himself. "I keep my private life separate from my professional life, and you should, too! But if someone else is helping you recover, you should let me know about it. It could affect what we've been doing."

Wash glared at him coldly. "If you were even half as concerned about me as a person than you are of me as a test subject, you would have figured that out a long time ago." He stalked to the door of the infirmary and turned around to face him. "Go deal with your own problems before you try to deal with mine again."

"Wash," Simon called, but it was too late; Wash had already stepped through the infirmary doors and was gone up the stairs.  
--

Dinner was cooking up in the galley as Wash made his way into the upper levels of the ship. It smelled rather nice tonight, and he could tell that some of the protein was being supplemented with real spices, if not real food. That meant Jayne was probably cooking, since he'd picked up some useful tricks from Shepherd Book when the two had cooked together, and combined them with the rudimentary skills he had learned from his mother when he was a boy. Wash turned from heading to his bunk and chanced a peek into the galley to see if his suspicions were correct.

Everyone but Simon was inside preparing for dinner, gathering plates and utensils and setting the table. It was a curious sight to see, as Wash hadn't experienced a true family sit-down meal since he'd come aboard. Even Zoe was helping out, filling mugs with drinks and setting them around the table.

Wash felt a grin creep onto his face as he took in the crew, his anger at Simon forgotten. "What's all this?" he asked after watching long enough to assure himself that he wasn't hallucinating.

Mal looked up from where he was standing behind the counter next to Jayne, helping the cooking along. "Makin' dinner," he replied in an obvious voice.

Wash tilted his head a little. "Yes," he agreed and found his spirits lifting. It was as though the argument with Simon had melted off him as soon as he'd stepped out of the infirmary. He felt cheerful now. "Just not used to seeing it. Can I help?"

Mal shrugged. "Figure it was time we started this up again." He glanced about, looking for something for Wash to do. "See if we don't have some napkins out?"

Wash stared at the drawer that the napkins were kept in. Jayne was standing right in front of it while he chopped something up with a very large knife. Wash hesitated a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to go over to him and retrieve the napkins, and then he noticed Kaylee struggling with a large basket.

He abandoned the napkin scheme and immediately went to assist her instead. Upon taking the basket from her, he was assaulted with the heavy aroma of freshly baked bread. His eyes widened. "Is this bread? _Real_ bread?" he asked, surprised.

Kaylee nodded and grinned impishly at him. "It is. Pretty _qi miao_, ain't it?"

Wash nodded vigorously and honestly could not recall the last time he'd had real bread. "I must have been very good today to get this. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," Mal called as he stirred something in a pot. "Just picked up some good food on our last run, and it seemed about time to use it."

"Well, I can't argue with that," Wash agreed contentedly.

River looked up from where she was meticulously setting the utensils out, arranging them in the proper eating order. She looked up at Wash as he cradled the basket of bread. "We all celebrate for our own reasons," she replied softly and then directed her attention back down to her task. "You just don't understand them."

Wash smiled curiously at this statement. "I thought you were through with being creepy?" He glanced around for confirmation.

Mal shook his head negatively. "Oh, no. River still has her crazy moments," he commented with a smile. "Only now we know she's usually reading our minds and predicting the future in strange and uncomfortable ways."

River straightened up and peered over at Mal with a concerned look on her face. "He doesn't know it yet," she said aloud, staring at Mal but addressing Wash, "but soon he'll learn to beat the tide." She glanced to Jayne, then to Zoe, and finally to Kaylee. She laughed a little before returning her gaze to Wash. "Drown or swim—it won't matter after a while. Everyone will sink."

"Well, some things never change," Wash replied happily after listening to River's crazy talk. He moved towards the table, and Kaylee reached into the basket to pull rolls of bread out and set them on the plates. "I guess that's a comfort. I mean, at least you're speaking to me now."

River smirked at him. "Always speaking; your ears are always closed."

"You know, I'm really just not as big a fan of your creepy phrases as I used to be, River. But I do appreciate the effort you're putting forth," Wash replied lightly.

He and Kaylee drew up beside Zoe, and she stepped aside a little to let them pass with the bread. "Jayne ain't much a fan of her witticism neither," she commented absently.

Wash stiffened a moment at her words and looked to her and then over his shoulder at the mercenary.

Jayne glanced up from his chopping and grunted. "Hey, Zoe," he called in a leering tone, ignoring her comment, "I got a hell of a better job for your pretty mouth than what your usin' it for."

Mal immediately smacked him hard on the arm. "Reckon your brain's gone missin' again, Jayne," he warned.

Zoe looked from Jayne to Wash, and she shook her head almost as though she were amused by the crudeness. "Think you just picked the wrong battle to fight in," she called to Jayne before she crossed her arms and studied him carefully, one eyebrow perked.

Jayne shrugged and resumed his methodic chopping. "Hell, just 'cause y'ain't gonna sleep with _him_ don't mean y'can't sleep with _me_." He looked up briefly as he lifted his cutting board full of diced vegetables and scraped them into the pot.

Both Mal and Zoe stared at him openly. Wash shuffled past unseen, setting out the rest of the bread. "Think you might want to rephrase that, Jayne," Zoe cautioned.

Jayne snorted at her and shook his head. He set the cutting board down and met Zoe's gaze. "Why? Y'ain't attached, right? Kaylee ain't int'rested in me none. Don't see what's so wrong 'bout admirin'. We could grapple a little, relieve some tension we both got." He went so far as to waggle his brows for emphasis.

The look of open surprise and mild disgust on Zoe's face was hard to hide. She was stunned at his audacity. For a full second she did nothing, weighing her options. Then she turned around to address Kaylee. "He hit on you?" she asked, bemused.

Kaylee grinned softly, almost shyly. "Well, yeah, but who don't he hit on?"

"He's still afraid from before," River stated in a singing soft voice. "Doesn't think he can trust anymore." Both Kaylee and Zoe looked over to the teenager. She was staring at Jayne, and Jayne was suddenly shifting about behind the counter, uncomfortably.

"Hell, I still get nightmares from that bar fight you done me in at," Jayne protested gruffly. "Ain't no way I'm going there."

"Which is good 'cause I'd space you if you tried gettin' with little girls." Mal nodded emphatically and then turned away from Jayne. "He's really just afraid 'cause River can read his mind," Mal stated easily to the girls. "Ain't no way he could charm her with those thoughts."

"There is no charm," River agreed and ran her fingers over the tabletop. "He only has his brute force and pity."

"Well, hell, I ain't tryin' t'get River no how anyway," he protested. "Was hittin' on Zoe, if I recall, which I do."

Zoe laughed softly then focused a harden gaze on the mercenary. "Jayne, you hit on me again and I'll make what River did to you in the Maidenhead seem like foreplay."

Wash looked up at this, mild surprise and amusement registering on his face as he followed the conversation. "Wait, what? River took _Jayne_ out?"

There was a soft sobering that descended over the room. Zoe turned back to the table and absently re-straightened a few of the utensils. Jayne bent to look into the now boiling pot rather surreptitiously. Kaylee busied herself with putting away the empty breadbasket in a far corner of the kitchen, and River slipped delicately into one of the chairs and hid her face with her hair.

Only Mal met Wash's gaze. He hesitated for a moment as though he was going to change the subject, and then he shrugged and began to explain. "Jayne and I went into the Maidenhead to drop off Fanty and Mingo's cut of the deal," he started, picking up a bowl of food and carried it out to the table. "This is one you were on, last job we did together an'all." He glanced at Wash, who was listening patiently. It was the first time anything had been discussed around him regarding things he'd forgotten.

"So, River watches this crazy commercial playing over the Cortex, right? And it makes her go ape shit." He laughed softly as he recalled the events, although Wash could tell it was not a funny memory. "She takes out everyone in the bar, along with Jayne." Mal glanced over his shoulder at Jayne who was studiously ignoring him and the conversation. Mal shrugged. "Simon came in and calmed her right before I about put a bullet to her."

"Would have missed," River stated flatly.

"Might've," Mal agreed but kept his eyes on Wash. "Was worth seeing, to be sure. Girl has some serious skill."

Wash laughed softly, breaking up the tension a little. "I just find it hard to picture," he started and waved a hand in gesture. "River's like, what, ninety-pounds? How does a ninety-pound girl take out someone like Jayne?"

Jayne picked up the soup pot, carried it out to the table, and sat it down heavily. "Ain't like I were the only one she done in."

Kaylee piped up as she returned to the table and took a seat. "She grabbed him by the balls," she cheerfully explained. Her hand went up in demonstration. "Just a grab and a twist, like this," she mimicked the gesture and grinned brightly as Jayne twitched a little from across the table. "It'll bring a man to his knees every time."

Wash stared at her, aghast. "Well, thanks for that illustration." He quickly slipped into a chair and crossed his legs.

Kaylee smirked. "Just something Inara taught me once."

Mal eased into a seat beside Wash. "Always knew that woman weren't a good influence on you, Kaylee."

Wash leaned forward and began to help himself to the food being set out. "Well, it makes sense she'd know how to defend herself against overly aggressive clients."

Jayne began handing out bowls for the soup and tossed one at Wash. It missed and clattered to the floor.

"I'm honestly surprised you forgot that fight," Kaylee said after Wash had bent and retrieved his bowl. "We saw a recording of it later, too, 'n'everything. You laughed so hard the first time you heard the story."

"I'll bet," Wash agreed with a slight grin. He watched in contentment as everyone found their seats and began to load up their plates with food. The elusive family feeling he'd been looking for had returned, and this time he even felt included; he was a part of it. "So you're trusting me with secrets again?" he happily asked Mal. "What did I do right to deserve that?"

Mal glanced up. Something caught his eye, and he nodded at the galley steps. "You have the good doctor to thank for that," he said as he inclined his head towards Simon who had just appeared in the doorway. Simon hovered there uncertainly for a bit, his eyes on Wash. Mal continued on carefree. "He's been advocating support for you since you got back. He trusts you and thinks I should, too." He nodded approvingly over to Simon. "I decided to give it a month and see how I felt about all of this."

Wash had the good nature to stare down at his plate of food. Looking at Simon at that moment was impossible as the memory of their fight only minutes before returned to him. He wasn't even sure he could answer Mal. "Guess I passed the test, then?" he finally muttered in a soft tone.

Mal nodded returning his gaze to Wash. "Yeah, guess so. If you're a spy, you're the gorram lousiest one I ever saw." He laughed to himself and then settled down to eat. He reached for his napkin and found there wasn't one. "Simon, get the napkins, will you?"

Simon lingered by the doorway for a bit longer and then decided it was safe to enter. He slipped down the stairs and retrieved the napkins from one of the drawers. He handed them out quickly and took a seat on the far side of the table beside River. His eyes drifted to Wash for a moment before he unfolded his own napkin, set it in his lap, and busied himself with his food.

"Tomorrow, you get to fly her," River suddenly piped up, looking right at Wash.

Wash's head jerked up at that, and Mal nearly choked on his food. "What?" Wash demanded as his heart leapt into his throat. He was surprised at the excitement he heard in his voice. "Please don't let that be crazy talk again."

Mal had to chuckle at that. "Well, she's sort of right." He set his chopsticks down. "We agreed that tomorrow we'd let you ride shotgun." He rubbed the side of his nose for a few seconds, self-consciously. "We've got a job to run on Greenleaf. Shouldn't be too hard: just a bait and switch. Figured you'd appreciate getting in the pilot's seat again. Or co-pilot's seat, as it may be." He glanced at Wash and grinned even more seeing the smile Wash was now wearing. "It ain't much," he stated firmly. "Ain't letting you fly; just seein' if you can sit on your ass in the cabin without passin' out."

The way Wash shone after receiving that information was as though he had just been told the past year and a half had been a dream. He nodded passionately. "That's great!" he enthused. "I can prove that I'm fit to pilot still."

Mal shook his head mirthfully. "Well, don't get too cocky. Got a long ways to go, yet."

Wash was all smiles and buoyant as though he was already flying. Kaylee matched his grin, happy for him. Even Zoe seemed rather pleased that he was wearing an expression other than depressed, today. River studied him carefully and kept nodding affirmatively to herself. Simon carefully averted his eyes, and Jayne was too busy eating to notice what was happening. "Thanks, Mal," Wash breathed contently.

The conversation then turned to the mundane with vague hints about what cargo they'd be hauling in the morning. For the most part, they were quiet while they enjoyed their food, and Wash soaked in the homey atmosphere.

He sat there for a long time even after the meal was eaten and the dishes were cleared away. He nodded goodnight to Kaylee as she departed. He was about to ask a question to Zoe when Mal stood up to turn in. "G'night, captain," he said with a lazy grin.

Simon stood up a moment later, clearly cued to his feet by Mal's departure. He didn't say anything and just simply followed Mal up the stairs and into the crew quarters. Without eavesdropping, Wash could see the two of them standing in the corridor discussing something in low voices. He knew they were talking about him.

That broke his pleasant mood, and he pushed himself roughly to his feet. "Well, I've got a ridiculous amount of physical therapy sets to do before sleep," he said in an annoyed tone. "I'll see you ladies in the morning." He nodded his head to Zoe and River.

Jayne languidly got to his feet too. "I'll, uh, help spot you on those," he gruffly said.

Wash didn't acknowledge him or even glance his way; he just turned and started up the stairs towards the crew quarters, grinning darkly as he noted how Simon and Mal's conversation dropped off as soon as he approached. He enjoyed the way his arrival made Simon scatter, hurrying back down to the infirmary. Wash was fairly certain he'd interrupted their conversation before Simon had managed to say anything meaningful to Mal about him.

He continued on his way, this time only vaguely aware of Jayne following him down towards the cargo bay.  
--

The following morning Wash was up and dressed before he gave himself much time to think about what he was doing. He climbed out of his bunk and bounded into the cabin for the first time since he had returned without giving the action enough thought to trigger a panic attack. It wasn't until his eyes fixed on the pilot chair River was sitting in--a newer, shiny model not yet broken in--that he was brought up short by his breath caught in his throat.

At first, he couldn't explain the cold chills that ran along his spine as he stared at the chair. It was, for the most part, meaningless to him. Various items around _Serenity_ had been taken out and changed. The pilot chair had been old and rickety in places. It had had a seat harness that tended to stick, and the leather underneath it had been cracked and scratchy. Yet seeing a new chair in its place filled him with a strange sort of dread. The chair upset him far more than River sitting in it did, and that surprised him.

He realized, numbly, that he had died there.

He inched away from her and sank into the still recognizable co-pilot chair. His hands went out to touch the armrests, feeling its smooth familiarity and the soft, wooly cover seat stretched over it. At least the co-pilot chair was still the same. He patted the seat softly and then raised his hands to rest them on the co-pilot yoke with a heavy sigh. He tore his eyes off the pilot chair and fixed them on their current coordinates. 

"It gets easier," River calmly stated after Wash had settled himself into his chair. She looked away from the windscreen and studied him with cool, brown eyes.

"Does it?" he asked softly.

She nodded warmly. "It does." Her eyes returned to the black; in the distance a blue and green world was fast approaching. "Each day it gets easier, little by little. One day you won't notice it at all."

One of Wash's hands rose to touch his chest. His fingers clasped at the zipper down his jumpsuit and at the few buttons of his Hawaiian shirt that covered it. "It'll still be there, though," he answered quietly.

River thought on this a bit and then nodded in agreement. "To take it away would change who you are," she explained softly. "You must transubstantiate it."

"What?" Wash asked, confused.

She gave him a tiny smile. "It's empty now. You have to fill it."

There was a silence for a bit. Wash watched the planet as it drew closer. He was impressed with River's abilities to handle the ship, but he didn't let it show. The girl did seem to have natural talent. "With what?" he finally whispered.

Her smile broadened as her eyebrows went up. "Dinosaurs?" she questioned casually. She lifted a finger and stroked lovingly down the nose of a plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex that sat to her left on the console.

Wash's eyes widened as he took the figure in. He quickly noticed two of his other dinosaurs and a few plastic palm trees on the dash. He was too stunned to say anything. He was shocked he hadn't seen them upon entering and impressed they were still sitting on the console.

River patted the Tyrannosaurus Rex's head. "They've missed you. You never visited."

Wash blinked out of his reverie. "I didn't think . . . I figured Zoe boxed them away somewhere. They've been here this whole time?" he questioned.

River nodded. "Sometimes they fall," she knocked the Tyrannosaurus Rex over. "But they always come back. Zoe sets them up."

Wash looked away from them and stared at the ceiling for several long seconds. He couldn't describe the way his heart was pounding, and he wasn't sure why it was, either. So Zoe set up his dinosaurs on occasion and had kept them in place there for over a year. That didn't mean anything, really, did it? It meant that she had loved him once, which he knew. And it meant that she honored his memory by keeping his dinosaurs there.

He bowed his head as his throat tightened and his eyes began to burn; he feared he was about to start crying.

"Do you want to fly?" River quietly asked.

This made him look up at her, his tears forgotten. "But Mal said . . ."

"Shhh," she whispered and easily reached over and flipped a few switches. She turned control of the ship over to the co-pilot chair and gave him a secret smile. "You have two minutes," she whispered.

Wash's heart was still pounding as his grip on the yoke tightened. He felt a thrill of exhilaration shoot through him as _Serenity_ shivered and responded to his touch. He didn't have to do much—she was already well calibrated and aimed in the right direction. He just adjusted her flight pattern a hair and grinned happily at the way she responded so easily to his touch.

It was like coming home in a way he hadn't ever thought he could. The view was different from the co-pilot's chair, but the feelings were the same. It was pure joy to control the ship again, and in doing so, the dread he felt from seeing the replaced pilot's chair faded. The dinosaurs sitting on the console just seemed to belong.

"Thank you," he whispered softly.

It was over too soon. River reached over and quickly changed the controls back to her side of the ship as the approaching sound of feet announced the arrival of the captain.

Wash straightened and took his hands off the yoke as Mal, Zoe, and Jayne filed into the cockpit behind him. Zoe moved to stand behind River; Jayne took up residence behind Wash's chair. Mal raised his arms and hung off a pipe in the middle of the cabin, leaning forward and looking at Greenleaf absently.

"Six minutes and forty-seven seconds," River stated without prompting.

Mal nodded to himself and then glanced to Wash. "How's it sit?"

Jayne's hand were resting on the back of Wash's chair, and the presence of someone behind him made him tense; his back was rigid, and he probably looked more ill at ease than he felt. "It's fine," he replied with a little difficulty. He inclined his head towards the plastic toys. "Glad to see my dinosaurs were well taken care of."

Mal looked over to the dinosaurs and nodded. "Yeah, they became our mascots of sorts." He chuckled and shook his head. "River fill you in on the plan?" he asked, turning business like.

Wash glanced to River and then shook his head. "No, she didn't."

"That's fine," Mal replied. "'Cause you don't do much." He glanced to Jayne who was peering out at the planet over Wash's head. "We land, do the job, come back, and we take off. River flies, and you sit there and look pretty."

Wash crossed his arms and sat back smugly, despite Jayne hovering over him. "Looking pretty I can do fairly well," he agreed easily.

"Not as well as me," Mal replied with a grin but then nodded, looking forward. "All right, bring us in, River."

She shifted just a bit in her chair, and _Serenity_ responded accordingly. The planet engulfed the windscreen, and the ship rattled as they hit the white-hot atmosphere. River held the ship steady like a professional, her eyes locked firmly on her controls as she applied the exact right amounts of pressure and resistance to break their descent.

The ship slowed as it lost altitude, and before long the trembling shook into a soft thrum as they fought air resistance. One of River's hands stretched out effortlessly and began flipping switches as she brought the ship over to planet-side flight.

Wash resisted the urge to start the sequencing with her. He could have done it from the co-pilot chair, but he resisted. Mal didn't trust him on the controls yet, even if River did. He just kept his arms crossed and spent time watching River operate, occasionally checking their descent pattern to see how on course she remained.

River flipped the last of the three switches on the upper right, completing the airborne sequencing and returned her hand to the yoke. With a gentle nudge, she pressed the ship forward, and soon they were skimming over mountains and trees. Her eyes darted casually to the landing patterns on the console, and she manually adjusted the ship as she flew. "One minute, fifteen seconds," she announced into the silence.

They braced for landing, but she brought them in smoothly. She set the ship down in the small docking port of a rather backwater part of the planet. The landing was perfect, and the ship only barely shivered. River quickly started the cool down sequence, flipping switching effortlessly as she did.

Mal nodded, content with the proceeding and let go of the pipe over head. "Shiny. We'll be back in a few hours. Shouldn't take long."

"Be careful, you guys," Wash called out habitually. He found he still did care, even if it was in different ways.

Mal and Zoe pushed off, Jayne following after them a few seconds behind.

When their footsteps had faded into silence behind them, Wash turned in his chair to look at River. Her eyes were fixed on the Tyrannosaurus Rex again, and a quizzical expression had settled on her face. "It filled, and then emptied."

Wash blinked a little and stared at her. "What?"

She looked away from the dinosaur and studied him. "You're too illogical."

He had to laugh at the unexpectedness of that. "How so?"

"You died. It isn't possible for you to be here." Her brows furrowed. "It defies logic."

He gave her a smirk. "Hasn't your brother explained this to you? The Alliance fixed me and put in a new heart and lungs and stuff. He's very impressed with me." He rolled his eyes a little and then waggled his fingers. "I'm like his shiny new toy."

River shook her head. "We _buried_ you," she stated firmly. "They dug you up. It isn't right." She put a hand to her head and tugged at her hair.

"Don't freak out, okay? I wouldn't know what to do, and I don't want to have to go get Simon right now."

She shook her head angrily. "There are better people to bring back than you. It was your time, and you shouldn't be here." She got to her feet, angered. "You're going to betray us."

That stunned Wash. He thought he had almost come to common ground with River a moment before when they'd been flying together. Now she was accusing him of a betrayal he hadn't done? "That isn't fair," he protested softly.

She stared at him and stepped closer in the space between the two pilot consoles. Her eyes fixed on his carefully. "You walk a very narrow path. Teeter either way and you'll fall. When you do, you'll never be picked up again. Do you know that? You're so close right now. So close, the edge is cutting you." Her hand raised and she extended a finger towards him. It wasn't as though she was pointing at him, though, she was almost reaching out to touch him.

"I'm doing the best I can," he retorted, confused.

"You're not," she answered. "You're illogical, and you know you are. You do illogical things because of it. They're going to find out soon, and when they do, you're going to fall." She wasn't happy about this. "It's stupid."

Wash got to his feet, perturbed. He felt his anger flaring to life. "I'm surviving, aren't I?" he demanded. "I've put on weight and learned to walk again, no thanks to you. What more do you want from me?"

River shook her head. "You're empty," she stated, explaining. "Nothing good will come of an empty shell." She dropped her hand and stepped away from him, heading toward the cabin door. She turned to face him as she stood in the archway. "It isn't logical." Then she fled, her bare feet slapping softly on the metal floor as she went.

Wash sank back into the co-pilot's chair after she had gone, trying unsuccessfully to rebottle his freshly flared anger and reconcile his confusion.


	5. Chapter 5

One of the things Wash liked the best about the cargo bay was that he could hear someone approaching long before they could see him. As a result, he was able to pull his shirt on and position himself in an intimidating fashion in front of the weight set by the time Simon reached the ground level. Wash buttoned his shirt slowly while his eyes rose to meet Simon's. When they linked, he held the gaze.

After a moment, Simon's eyes flickered behind him, and Wash knew that Jayne must have stepped out from the stack of crates he'd been behind. He crossed over to the weight set and threw down the towel that was hung over his shoulder. Beyond that, he ignored them.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Wash coldly stated.

Simon hesitated for a moment, his eyes still on Jayne before he squared his shoulders and returned his attention to Wash. "Good. Then you won't interrupt what I've come to say."

Wash mopped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and crossed his arms. "What?"

Simon's eyes flickered to Jayne again, cautiously. "Jayne," he started, slowly.

Jayne bent to retrieve his water bottle and shrugged. "Was just leavin', Doc," he called easily. He threw a wary glance to Wash and then pushed past them, soon up the stairs and out of sight.

Simon waited until the last ringing footstep had stopped before he returned his eyes to Wash. He was still resolutely standing in front of him. "I'm going to explain my situation regarding Kaylee with you. You don't have to reciprocate, but I want you to trust me and to know that I trust you with this information."

Wash turned away from him and went to sit on the edge of the bench press. He rubbed his thigh slightly and focused his eyes on Simon's knees. He felt Simon studying him and shifted uncomfortably. "You should tell Kaylee, not me."

Simon lowered his voice. "Kaylee already knows. That's . . . that's what this is all about." He pressed his palms out on his thighs nervously and started talking, keeping his voice quiet. "We got together, you know, after Miranda. Looking death in face like that makes you reevaluate the choices you've made in your life up to that point."

This only made Wash roll his eyes. "Get to the point," he growled impatiently.

Simon's eyes narrowed. He did enjoy hearing himself speak telling long-winded tales about his life. He shifted his weight and proceeded, truncating his purple prose. "Well, it didn't work out. I mean, it did, at first. It was very nice for a few months." He turned away from Wash and studied the catwalk absently, clearly finding it easier to look at something cold and inanimate than Wash's disinterested face. "Then, River started getting jealous." He waved a hand a little. "At first it wasn't bad, really. The three of us spent time together and had a lot of fun. She was much better after Miranda, and she seemed to genuinely like Kaylee." He smiled, thoughtfully. "We had a great time—"

"So you chose River over Kaylee?" Wash asked, cutting his prattling off.

Simon's head turned back over to look at him. He folded his hands in front of him and shrugged, staring at his feet. "I didn't really have a choice. She became unstable again. She flew into fits of rage if I stayed out too late, or, heaven forbid, spent the night with her." He fixed his eyes back on Wash. "After a few months of that, it was clear she was driving Kaylee and me apart. We tried to compromise, but in the end, River couldn't stand to share me."

There were a host of things Wash wanted to say in regards to that, most of them derogatory, but he held his tongue.

For a time, Simon studied him in silence before he said, "You think River is better, but she's not. She's improved from how she was when you first met her, but she's not better." He shook his head mournfully. "She's never going to be better. The things they did to her when she was at that academy are never, ever going to go away. When I rescued her, I promised to protect her." He paused for a moment, drawing a breath. "And that's what I intend to do at the cost of everything else."

Wash ran his tongue over his teeth as he contemplated this. His eyes were focused now on his hands, which were folded in his lap. "Kaylee deserves better than a _hun dan_ like you, anyway," he finally muttered.

"Because I chose to help my sister instead of be with the woman I love?" he questioned softly. "Maybe you're right. She does deserve someone who can devote himself entirely to her. I'm just sorry that man can't be me."

Wash got to his feet and stalked forward, looking down his nose at him. "Don't think this changes anything between us."

Simon shook his head, his voice changing in tone slightly. "What you're doing isn't healthy, Wash."

Wash's eyes narrowed menacingly. "And just what am I doing?"

A moment of silence passed between them. "Well, whatever it is, it's not involving these much." Simon gestured to the weight set.

"You stay out of my business, and I'll stay out of yours," he threateningly stated, still glaring down at Simon. "Don't try to buddy up to me now; it's too late." He backed off then and turned to leave.

"I'm only trying to help you," Simon called after him. "What you're doing is just going to destroy you."

Wash spun around on the bottom step and glared across the way at him. "That's where you're wrong. I know what I'm capable of, and I know what's benefiting me. Sitting on a chair while you test my blood for the hundredth time is not helping me. Listening to you go on and on about the marvels of my reconstruction isn't helping me. Feeling alive is helping me. Connecting with _people_ is helping me. So that's what I'm going with." He turned and stalked up the stairs again.

When he reached the first landing Simon called out, "When was the last time you ate something?"

Wash stopped walking but didn't turn to look at him or reply. He just stared at the grates in front of him and let his hand grip the railing tightly.

"When did you last sleep a full night through? What's the longest you've gone without a drastic mood change?" He slowly started up the stairs after Wash. "You're losing weight again, and it's starting to show. You're wearing yourself down, hard. How long do you think that can last?"

Wash kept his back to Simon. "Does it matter?" he asked darkly. "Either I destroy myself this way and at least feel while I'm doing it, or I let myself waste away in misery, alone, feeling sorry for myself in my bunk."

"There has to be some sort of compromise," he gently pressed.

When Simon reached the stop of the stairs, Wash spun around. "Just leave me alone." His grip on the railing tightened. "If I decide I want your help again, _I'll_ come to _you_. Until then, just stay out of my way and out of my business."

He held Simon's gaze for several long seconds. When he felt his words had effectively sunk in, he turned again and stalked off.

--

Wash arrived in the passageway between the galley and the crew quarters in short order. His attention was diverted from his course toward the bridge by Kaylee's cheerful voice calling out to him, "Wash!" 

He turned briefly to look down at her in the kitchen. She quickly grabbed a bowl and held it up for him, grinning brightly. "I made soup!"

Wash's eyes darted around the kitchen, taking note of the fact that Jayne was already inside slurping down the soup at the table. His eyes darkened as they fixed on Kaylee. "I don't want any of your fucking soup!" he shouted, unprovoked. He tried to remember the inner sadness he'd seen in her eyes not too long ago, but it was elusive, replaced with her fake facade. "Just leave me alone," he added in a low growl.

He left her standing there dumbstruck and turned to continue along his way to the cabin.

"Don't you ever leave?" he snarled at River, who was sitting casually in the pilot's chair watching something over the Cortex.

"Don't you?" she questioned in a soft, calm voice without looking over.

The non-reaction to his anger took the fight out of him, and he deflated a little. His eyes trailed up to the monitor displaying a talking head. "What are you doing? You can't be watching the Cortex in here."

River arched an eyebrow and swiveled her chair towards him slightly. "Why not? It's the news." Her voice remained calm as she spoke. Slowly, she turned the chair back towards the monitor and resumed watching.

Wash stood there for several seconds and then shook his head. Something felt strange to him in a déjà vu sort of sense, but he couldn't pinpoint what. He just knew that he had never watched any broadcast over the Cortex when he'd been on the job unless it had been _for_ the job, so seeing River absently watching it unsettled him.

It was more than that, though. He crossed to the co-pilot chair and slipped into it. There was a darker reason she shouldn't be watching the broadcasts on the Cortex, and he strained his mind trying to remember why. The noise from the news broadcast seemed to fill the entire cabin, loud and annoying, and he put his hands to his ears to block out the sound. He couldn't think about anything while it blared, and he desperately wanted to remember. "For the love of Buddha, can you turn that off?" he shouted at her.

River snapped her head and fixed her eyes on him. She was glaring. "_You_ don't belong here," she stated in a low, even tone.

Wash pulled himself up to his feet in anger. Simon arriving in the cargo bay had voided his sanctuary there, and now he couldn't even sit in peace in the cabin and watch the stars. The galley was a throng of noise and confusion, and he found, depressingly, that she was right: he didn't belong. There was nowhere for him to go to feel comfortable with himself.

He stormed out of the cabin, regretting leaving the stars even as he did. He would lock himself in his bunk if he had to. It wasn't like he had much choice, unless he wanted to go sit in the passenger lounge and stare at the wall and hope Simon wouldn't happen along to poke needles in him.

He stepped on the door to his bunk to push it open, and that's when he heard the hushed voices in the galley.

He pulled up a little and glanced inside.

Kaylee was sitting on one of the chairs at the table. Her back was to him, but she was clearly crying, and Jayne was pacing in front of her, staring at the ground. The bowl of soup she'd made for him was forgotten, resting on the table beside her. "There's something wrong with him," Kaylee said in a low voice through her tears. "It ain't right."

Jayne looked uncomfortable. "Man came back from the dead. Ain't nothing ever gonna be right 'bout that."

"But he was doing better," she protested, looking up at Jayne. "He was getting better, for a while. Even Simon said so."

"Y'talkin' to the Doc again?" Jayne questioned quickly.

Kaylee shrugged. "We talk. Not a lot, but enough t'know that Wash ain't doin' so well now. Somethin' happened." Her fingers raised, and Wash guessed she was wiping her eyes. "Did he an'Zoe have a fight?"

"Why's something got to have happened? Things is just gettin' to him." Jayne shifted his weight and resumed pacing. "Don't know if something happened. Don't know, don't much care to, neither."

"No, guess you wouldn't. You don't care 'bout no one but yourself." She pushed to her feet roughly.

"Hey, I care," Jayne protested. "When it matters."

"Well, it matters," Kaylee retorted coldly as she looked up at him. "It's been matterin' every day since he got back, and you ain't lifted one finger t'try an'help him. Guess you didn't see no benefit in it for you, huh?" She started to turn.

Jayne's eyes widened just a bit as he stepped toward her. "Where you goin'?"

"I'm gonna go talk to him; figure out what's wrong," Kaylee answered and pushed past him. "Someone's got to, and it ain't like you're about t'start."

That didn't pacify Jayne any. "You deaf or somethin'? Didn't y'hear him say he wanted t'be left alone? Way I see it, man wants his privacy. Y'ought t'respect that."

"Respect what?" Kaylee replied putting her hands on her hips. "He's cryin' out for attention, Jayne. What he needs is a _friend,_ not some _hen xin hun dan_ like you tryin' to work out what he's thinkin'."

"Ain't gotta think 'bout it, Kaylee. Man says he don't want t'talk, then he don't want t'talk. We ain't like you womenfolk with your twisty ways. Menfolk say what they mean," he answered gruffly. "You go talk to him, he's just gonna make you cry again."

That brought Kaylee up for a bit, and she struggled for a moment. "Well, I can't just do _nothing_, Jayne."

"There's two people on this boat should be fixin' Wash with words, and thems the Doc and Zoe. You ain't got no reason to get in th'way," Jayne stated in a slightly softer tone.

"Well Simon ain't hardly the easiest guy t'talk to, you know that. An'Zoe ain't exactly lining up t'help him along, so the way I see it, I do got reason," she answered.

"An'I'm sayin' y'don't. So leave'im alone."

She took a step back from him. "What do you care either way whether I go or not? It ain't like it's gonna affect you."

"I just don't think you ought t'be stickin' your nose in other people's business, is all," Jayne countered hotly.

"Since when d'you care 'bout what's proper regardin' any of that? Wash is my friend!" Kaylee shouted back at him, her voice ringing down the hall.

"Well, you ain't his!" Jayne bellowed back.

"I'll believe that when he says it to my face!"

"That ain't likely, 'cause he's probably sick of you!"

Behind him, Wash heard the clunking of boots on metal as someone climbed out of their bunk. He turned just in time to see an angry Mal stalk past him and into the galley.

"What in the gorram hell is going on in here?" he demanded. "I ain't payin' ya'll to stand around here arguing with each other!"

Wash watched long enough to see Jayne and Kaylee look away from one another, sheepishly caught arguing red-handed. Kaylee had the decency to look embarrassed and frustrated, but Jayne just wore a strange look of wretched guilt on his face as he stared at the floor. Wash took the distraction Mal's arrival created to slip down the ladder and into the quiet safety of his own bunk.

But that night, after things had settled and everyone had turned in for sleep, Wash resurfaced and knocked on Jayne's bunk. When he answered with his familiar disinterested gaze, Wash simply said, "Time for my physical therapy."

--

In the morning when Wash stepped into the cabin after skipping breakfast, River made sure all the monitors were turned off and the cabin was quiet. He eyed her warily but then crossed over to the co-pilot's chair and settled heavily into it. He closed his eyes and soaked in the silence and the comfort of the cabin.

River watched him for a few seconds and then looked back at her controls and spoke, "We need to talk."

Wash sighed and cracked one of his eyes open to look at her. "I'd rather not," he softly replied. He was in a good mood and didn't want it ruined again.

Without preamble, she began, "You have to stop. You don't have anything left to destroy, but you keep going, always forward. Once you completely destroy yourself, you'll destroy us. I won't let you."

Wash sighed heavily and rested his arm on the armrest, burying his fingers in his hair. "Look, I just want a little peace and quiet and the ability to enjoy the stars. Is that really so much to ask?" He looked over to her with a raggedy expression that said that perhaps he hadn't slept as much as he had wanted to. "You fix your own problems first and then come try to correct mine."

"That's what you told Simon, but it won't work on me," she replied softly. "I don't want you to fail."

Wash rolled his eyes and looked away from her. "I'm not failing. I'm not doing anything wrong. Hell, I'm happy. I'm currently the happiest I've been since got here; hell, since I woke up sixteen months ago. And I'd be even happier if you'd shut up right now. So just lay off." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, already feeling grumpy.

"But it isn't right," she prodded softly. Wash tried to ignore her, but she persisted. "You know it isn't. You know it's hurting you, and you like that."

Wash's hands fell from across his chest, and he gripped the armrests on the chair. "Hurt is better than the empty hollowness I'd otherwise feel," he quietly stated. His eyes shifted to look at her. "Give me something else to replace that with, and maybe I'll stop."

She studied him carefully. "It will be too late by then." She rose to her feet, and the ivory white dress she was wearing floated about her like gossamer, giving her a ghostly appearance. "There are other answers out there. You've just got to seek them. Don't settle." She laughed softly.

"I'm not settling, for your information. I'm perfectly happy with what I'm doing, and I don't need you reading my mind and telling me I'm not," he commented darkly.

River hesitated between touching him or not and eventually resisted. "What you need is a friend," she whispered. "Not more pain."

Wash snorted. "If you're trying to extend an olive branch, then you're too late. You're all way too late."

She twisted her fingers for a moment, staring at him, and then stepped backwards. Her head shook gently. "It's never too late unless you've closed your mind." She frowned. "You're empty, but you're not closed."

"Go run along and play now, River. I think you've got other people on this ship to annoy besides me." He shifted in his chair to redirect his attention to the black. "If you want me to be better, you'll leave me alone here with the stars."

She studied him a moment longer, but then she did: she left him alone on the bridge, trusting him by himself in the cockpit. It wasn't that she had finished her conversation with him; she simply knew he wasn't going to change his responses.

She slipped past the crew quarters and glided through the corridor that led to the cargo bay. It wasn't quiet like it often was there but instead had a low murmur as someone worked below. It wasn't the sound of a physical workout, just something menial, and she descended to investigate even though she knew who was there.

She found Jayne sorting through a crate of cargo stacked against one of the walls beneath one of the catwalks. He was clearly in the process of taking inventory, and she sat herself on a crate and watched as he counted. When he had reached a final tally and imputed it onto his pad, he looked up at her. "What?" he grunted before straightening and putting the lid back on the crate.

River studied Jayne a moment longer and then smiled. "You aren't helping," she explained softly, keeping her eyes on him.

He dusted his hands off. "Good t'know," he muttered and picked up a crowbar. He flipped it around and stuck it under the lid of another crate, trying to pry the lid off of it. He seemed resolutely done with River.

She, however, wasn't done with him. "He'll destroy himself, and then he'll destroy you. He has that much darkness. It's all he has."

"You talkin' 'bout Mal, now?" Jayne asked with a grunt as he popped the lid off the crate. He set the crowbar down and moved the lid aside.

River paused to reflect on this, then she shook her head. "Not this time."

"Look, I ain't doin' nothing wrong," he stated as he squatted and began looking through the crate. "He just don't want to be alone sometimes. I ain't doing nothing he don't ask for first."

River crossed her legs on the crate. "If he asked you to kill him, would you?" she questioned in a soft, kind voice.

Jayne looked up at her skeptically and then resumed poking through the contents of the crate. "Mal'd kill me if I did."

River cocked her head thoughtfully at that. "Would you cut him with a knife if he asked you to?"

Jayne reflected on that and set his pad aside so he could tally the contents better. "Maybe; if he wanted me to. Heard 'bout folk that like that sort o'thing." He shrugged. "That ain't what he's asking for, though."

River scowled. "It is the same thing. You're hurting him, and he needs to be healed."

Jayne got to his feet and turned to face her. "Sometimes pain is all we can feel, girly. An'y'know the good thing 'bout pain?" He studied her face intently. "It overrides everything else." He waved his hand a little. "He don't have t'think about being dug up or reanimated or 'bout Zoe or how everyone don't like him if he's worryin' 'bout how much his leg or back or whatever hurts.

"Now that ain't how I deal, and maybe that ain't how you or that prissy brother of yours deals, but if it's how Wash deals, then I don't see what your gorram problem is with it. Y'ain't gonna help _him_ by talkin' at _me_."

For a moment, there was silence. Jayne went back to work, going back down to count his inventory and marking items on his checklist. He glanced over once to see if she was still there and figured she was contemplating what he said.

Finally, she got to her feet. "I want you to stop it."

He sighed and put his hands on his thighs to steady himself in his squatting position. "He asks me to, I will. Now scram."

River crossed her arms defiantly. "You're being problematic."

Jayne inclined his head. "Nice of y't'notice. Now get!" he insisted.

Her brow furrowed. "I could _make_ you stop," she stated in a low tone.

Jayne got to his feet slowly and drew to his full height so he towered over her. He looked down at her carefully and grinned wickedly, closing his eyes to think of the most disgusting violent and sexualized images he could. He visualized them very clearly, projecting them out to her the best he could manage.

When he opened his eyes, she was scurrying up the stairs muttering and wiping roughly at her arms as though she were covered in dirt.

He just laughed and went back to work.

--

Simon looked up from where he was very carefully separating plasma from his blood supply. The machine to do the process was broken, so it required a lot of fine-tuning to get it to process correctly. He kept his eyes on River for only a few seconds as she slipped onto the counter in the infirmary and drew her knees to her chest before he went back to the task at hand. "Hello, River," he said in a drawn out voice as he concentrated on what he was doing. "How are you?"

River practically pouted. "Wash is going to kill us all."

This caused Simon's eyebrows to shoot up, and he looked around immediately. "I'm guessing not right now?" he inquired after sensing no danger.

She gave him a flat look and then flopped her hands out onto the countertop. "Why doesn't anyone see it?"

Looking back at his plasma Simon sighed. "See what, _mei mei_?"

"The danger," River stated.

"Can you be a little more specific?"

She pulled her knees up under the bottom of her dress and wrapped one arm around them. The other hand absently drew streaks on the smooth silver countertop. "He hurts more than in his heart, Simon. You should see that." Her eyes lifted from watching her finger tracing invisible characters to meet his across the room. "He likes the pain because it makes him forget. It's a different sort of pain, and he can understand it better."

Her words made Simon pause his separation and straighten up. "River…"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "He likes it, and he won't stop unless you make him. He needs something else. The pain isn't right. It keeps emptying him out, and there's so little to begin with." Her hand pulled off the counter and went into her hair. Simon crossed the room to her and put one hand on her leg, comfortingly. "It's Jayne," she whispered and looked at him intently. "He thinks he's helping, but he's not. No one notices or cares that he's hurting Wash. It's there. It's so obvious, but no one sees it."

"Shh, River," Simon said and rubbed her leg soothingly. "I care. And I do see it. I want to help Wash, but I can't help him if he won't let me."

"You have to, Simon. You have to make him see he has to stop. Mal…" She trailed off and then shook her head. She softly murmured in nearly a chant, "Malcontent. Malevolent. Malice. Malicious. Malady." She stopped short and touched Simon's cheek. "Malar." Her brow furrowed. "Male."

Simon stared at her, uncomprehendingly. "I don't . . . follow."

Her hand rose to brush her hair out of her face. "Mal. So much good from so much bad." She shook her head as if to clear the thought. "Nevermind," she added, as though Simon were a slow child unable to follow along.

She shifted on the counter and lowered her knees before peering at him earnestly. "You have to get Wash. Make him see. You can do it. If you don't, it will be too late." She blinked and shook her head. "It's never too late," she contradicted, and then her gaze returned to Simon. "But it will be too late for him. You have to." Her hand dropped to his and squeezed his fingers tightly.

Simon nodded. "All right. Of course I will. I just," he gestured with his free hand, helplessly. "I can't just drag him in here kicking and screaming for a full diagnostic."

She grinned brightly at him. "He just collapsed in the kitchen." She laughed, delightedly at Simon's expression. "Let's go get him!"

--

It took more effort than Simon thought it was worth to get Wash from the galley to the infirmary, but River insisted on it. She didn't insist on helping carry Wash's dead weight, but she was adamant that Simon hurried to get him in place before he awoke. It took nearly ten minutes to do it, and by that point, Simon was hardly in the mood to do a prognostic.

"For as much weight as he's lost, he still is certainly heavy," Simon grunted as he navigated down the stairwell with Wash draped over his shoulder.

River followed slowly, a hand trailing down the railing. "You shouldn't have stopped working out," she replied with a calm grin.

Simon ignored her and wiped his brow after he set Wash down in the examination chair. "He's going to kill me when he wakes up, you know," he stated to her. "He told me he didn't want any more examinations."

River nodded. "He wants this one." She was back on the countertop, watching. "He just doesn't know it yet."

Simon sighed and began running his scan over Wash's body. He took care to document his legs and arms and lower body carefully. "This goes against every practical medical procedure in my book. I should never be scanning an unconscious patient against his will," he muttered but kept working. In the past, he had tended to focus solely on the repaired parts of Wash's body, but River insisted there was more than just that, and he suspected she wasn't far off. The scan immediately picked up blood in his skin tissue indicative of bruising.

Certain areas were far more bruised than others, and there was enough of it to concern him. There were a few marks on his back and arms, but it was largely on his legs and lower half. Simon had never disrobed him or scanned him there to look for injuries. His brows furrowed at his readouts. "River, these bruises are—" he trailed off.

She was watching Simon work and just stared at him. "Don't back down," she softly said. "He's going to wake up now."

On cue, Wash's eyes fluttered as he took in a ragged breath. He blinked once, and then his gaze focused on Simon. Looking around, he groaned, "What am I doing here?" He started to sit up.

Simon put a hand to his chest and pushed him back down. "You passed out again," he explained coolly. "You're getting worse. When _was_ the last time you ate something?"

Wash shifted uncomfortably beneath Simon's touch. "I don't remember."

"And that's because you're not eating enough," Simon replied. "I took the liberty of running a scan on you while you were out. Turns out you've got a lot more wrong with you than I thought. You're malnourished," River's brows went up at that. She smirked a little to herself, but Simon ignored her, "and you're mentally very unbalanced. I can give you something to keep your mood swings under control, and I think it would greatly benefit you."

Wash pushed Simon's hand away. "I don't want your help."

"I trust you now, Wash," Simon stated in a serious tone. "I expect you to trust me as well, even if you don't like what I have to say. These scans show extensive bruising all over your body. Can you explain that?"

Wash shifted in the chair to sit up better, but he didn't try to leave. "I just fell on my face in the kitchen; you saw me." Off Simon's unconvinced look, Wash elaborated. "And sometimes the weights slip, and I get hurt. It's nothing."

Simon looked him over carefully. "I thought you got Jayne to spot you so that wouldn't happen," he stated dryly.

This made Wash shrug and look away. "Even Jayne makes mistakes."

Simon shifted around until he was in Wash's view again. When he spoke, his tone was serious and intense. "I want you to stop training with Jayne." He studied Wash's eyes keenly and watched for a reaction. After several seconds of silence had passed, Simon continued, "He is hurting you."

The hush in the room stretched on, and then Wash looked away. He noticed River sitting on the counter for the first time, and his eyes narrowed in comprehension. "That's great," he hissed and sat up. When Simon tried to keep him in the chair, he pushed him back and got to his feet.

He was dizzy still from his fainting spell, and he reached a hand out to steady on the chair. "Now I've got the siblings tag teaming me. That's just fantastic!"

"Wash," Simon protested. "I'm serious. You have got to stop. There are better ways to deal with this than what you're doing. We're only trying to help you, and if you stopped thinking everyone was out to get you for just one second, you'd realize that."

Wash snarled. "I don't _want_ your help! How many times do I have to say that? I'm doing just fine on my own." He started towards the door and then turned around to look between the two of them. "If either of you try this again, I promise you'll regret it. I just want to be left alone."

"That isn't true," River stated firmly, staring at him. "You desperately don't want to be alone, but you push everyone away."

"Shut up!" Wash shouted at her, clearly angry and agitated. "Just shut up, both of you." He glared at her and then Simon. "I'm an adult--older than both of you, if I recall--and I know what I can and can't do. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I don't need either of you babying me." He didn't sound very sincere.

"It isn't going to just stop, Wash," Simon said cautiously. "It's going to destroy you, and him, and maybe this whole crew. Is that really what you want?"

Wash sobered for a moment and stared hard at Simon. He sought words for a moment and then shook his head. "Looked to me like this crew was shattered when I got here in the first place. Maybe I've introduced a fast death instead of a slow one, but the end result was going to be the same either way."

There was no reply to that. Wash stared at them both for several seconds longer and then, seeing he wasn't being challenged anymore, turned and stalked off.

When he was gone, Simon sighed, defeated. "Well, we tried. Again."

River shook her head. "It isn't over."

Simon gestured to the empty doorway but looked at her. "He left. What else can we do?"

Slipping off the counter, she moved to the chair. Resolutely, she said, "Now we tell Mal."


	6. Chapter 6

The kitchen was quiet when Wash returned to it, but he was vexed to find Zoe sitting peacefully at the big table, sipping plainly from a cup of tea. She looked up at him casually as he came down the stairs.

"Where the hell were you ten minutes ago when I was face-planted on the floor in here?" he asked bitterly. When their eyes met, he was surprised by her lack of negative reaction—he knew his anger showed, but she seemed unperturbed by it.

She held his gaze for several long moments, and as she did, he felt the anger that had been broiling in him drawing out. She didn't smile, and her eyes weren't even kind, but he found something there that could still defeat him quite easily. After several seconds she looked away casually. "Can't be everywhere at once," she softly replied, picking up her cup. Her eyebrow quirked a little and she returned her gaze to him. "Didn't break nothing?"

Wash rubbed his hip softly where he was bruised and sore from falling and shook his head. "No. Nothing broken." He glanced about the galley slowly, uncertain how to proceed with the conversation.

His eyes eventually rose towards the engine room, and he recalled the fight he'd witnessed between Kaylee and Jayne. The soup bowl was long gone, and he felt a pang of regret for having yelled at Kaylee and upset her. "Kaylee in there?" he asked Zoe casually. It was remarkable how talking to her seemed so easy yet so difficult.

She shifted in her seat and looked behind her. "See for yourself."

He didn't want to leave because it had been a while since they'd spoken, but he didn't want to press his luck, either. Not appearing too eager would probably be nice. Keeping his temper probably couldn't hurt, either. So, he left Zoe and stepped around the table to enter the engine room, peeking around for the mechanic.

Kaylee looked up at him from where she was lying in her hammock, and she scowled at the sight of him. She lifted an eyebrow, cautiously. "Come t'yell at me some more?"

Wash leaned against the curve of the doorframe and studied her with his most gentle expression possible. "No, Kaylee," he replied in a voice that sounded soft even to his own ears. "I came to apologize. I was really, really rotten to you yesterday."

Kaylee appeared to be considering this for several moments, though her eyes never left Wash's face while she did. She shifted in her hammock a bit, making herself more comfortable. The scowl was still evident on her face.

Wash didn't like the prolonged silence. "You know how hard this has been on me," he proceeded uncertainly. "I have these mood swings sometimes, and I'd had a really unpleasant conversation with Simon right before I saw you. You know how unpleasant talking to him can be." He tried on a faint smile and wished it felt more natural on his face than it did. "I regret that I didn't stay and eat your soup, and thank you for making it. I'm sorry you got into a fight with Jayne because of me." At her continued silence he stepped inside the engine room toward her. "I really am sorry, Kaylee."

She looked away from him at last and stared at the end of her hammock. Wash didn't know what reaction he had expected from her, but his mental simulations had ended with smiles–not her still scowling. When she finally spoke, she kept her eyes off him. "You sayin' that 'cause y'really mean it or 'cause Zoe's sittin' right out there?" she morosely questioned.

Wash opened his mouth to retort, but his throat went dry. He was fervently aware of Zoe's presence behind him and that he was straining overly hard to act normal and casual around her. He also knew she could probably hear their entire conversation. He couldn't say he had consciously made the decision to come in here to apologize to Kaylee on the basis that Zoe'd hear him and potentially admire him for it, but once Kaylee pointed it out to him, it didn't seem so far-fetched. His subconscious had been doing much worse things to him lately.

He felt a chill along his spine, and he took another step into the engine room, leaving the kitchen behind him. He spoke in a hushed whisper, soft enough that it wouldn't carry out to the galley. "I'm a sick, broken man, Kaylee," he said, realizing that it was true as he spoke it. He was overcome with a sudden desire to touch her in some comforting way, but he stayed his hand. "Everything is wrong on this ship," he added, "so I react in the wrong way a lot, too. I didn't really mean it."

Kaylee sat up and looked at him earnestly. "Ain't nothing gonna get fixed if you don't let people know it's broke," she replied and then gave him a little smile. They both knew she could just as easily be talking about herself. "We all got lots of healin' t'do on this boat."

Wash nodded. "Yeah. It's just not easy."

"No, it ain't easy. That's why you got friends."

There was a moment where he hesitated, and then he softly said, "I pushed you away because it's too dark for you." His smile was sad. "I don't want you to see me this way. I don't want you to have to worry about me."

Kaylee shook her head disarmingly. "That's what friends do, dummy."

As he listened to Kaylee, he failed to notice River arriving from below decks to find Mal in his bunk. She escorted him back down with her. Wash's hand reached out to touch the ropes that attached the hammock to the engine. "Remember when I helped you hang this up in here the first time?"

Kaylee leaned back in the hammock and sighed, resting her hands over her chest. "Yup. It was real soon after I got on this boat. Zoe didn't much care for me then, and the cap'n was always busy, but I remember you were sure welcoming."

Wash nodded thoughtfully and pulled the rope slightly so it rocked Kaylee. "I miss that. Everything was easier back then."

"Mmm," Kaylee mused softly. She was silent for a period as Wash rocked her, and then she shook her head. "It's gonna get better."

"Do you really believe that?" he whispered.

Kaylee lifted her eyes to look at him, and in their depths he finally saw a hint of her inner sadness. She nodded. "Your life ain't over, Wash. You got a second lease, even. Ain't hardly nobody ever got that before." She reached one of her hands up to fold over Wash's on the hammock rope. She squeezed his fingers tightly. "There's no way that was an accident. You get another chance, and I know it's not for you to waste away depressed. These things just take time." She smiled at him, soft and real. "I got faith in you, Wash. It'll get better."

Her smile was so real and tender that he found himself returning it before he even realized. For once, it felt proper. "God, I hope you're right."

--

River all but pushed Mal into the infirmary and quickly stepped in behind him. As soon as they had cleared the doorway, Simon glanced about the passenger lounge beyond and, seeing the coast was clear, slid the doors shut behind him. He turned around and pressed his back against the metal, staring at the two others now closed in the room with him. River went to take a seat on the countertop, and Mal turned around, completely bewildered.

"What in the hell is going on here?" he demanded, confused. "River comes dragging me around sayin' we got an emergency, but I don't see no bleeding bodies." He looked at Simon critically, expecting an explanation.

Simon took a deep breath. "We've got a slowly ticking time-bomb onboard," he stated at last, his eyes rather wide with the fear of what he had to explain.

Mal raised an eyebrow. "You sproutin' pretty metaphors like your sister, or should we be loadin' the shuttles?"

"Wash is sick," River announced.

Mal looked over to her, critically. "Don't take a genius t'figure that one out."

"It's worse than we thought," Simon added, directing Mal's attention back to him. "Wash has practically stopped eating. I don't think he ever sleeps, his weight mass has dropped significantly again, and he's given up his physical therapy schedule in lieu of . . ." He trailed his hand in the air for a moment, hoping to find a word that would elaborate what he was trying to say. "Well," he sighed, "whatever it is he and Jayne are doing together every night," he continued with a pointed look and emphasis that he hoped would clue Mal in, "it isn't benefiting him."

At last, Simon stepped away from the closed doors to his computer. He swiveled the monitor to face Mal and brought up the diagnostic reading he had just run on Wash. "Under normal circumstances I would never reveal this sort of private information to a third party, as I'm sure you can imagine," he prefaced, "but River truly believes Wash is on a destructive path, for both himself and this crew, and I'm leaning hard to believe her."

Mal nodded, crossing his arms, and stepped closer to peer at the monitor. "Girl has been known to be true on occasion."

Simon's finger circled a section of the display. "See this dark area? It's extensive bruising. I took these scans about ten minutes ago. You can see it trails along his spine and down his legs. He's got a few other bruises, too, not consistent with the types of injuries he ought to have sustained from his training."

Mal's face was stony. "He's been passing out again, and I know from personal experience those grates leave bruises."

That was met with nodding from Simon. "That could account for a small portion of the bruises but not all of them. There's really no way he could obtain this sort of injury in a fall; even if he fell down the stairs, it wouldn't look mottled like this."

"Grey and blue and purple," River muttered to herself unhappily. "Everything has become so dark."

Mal cast her a brief glance and then tilted his head as he stared at the display again. "So Jayne's beating him up…?" he asked slowly, piecing it together.

Simon pressed his lips together tightly. "Well, yes. In a way."

"He likes the pain and the pleasure," River supplied, snapping out of her introspectiveness. "It makes the emptiness go away, for a little bit."

Mal said nothing as he stared at River. For several moments he seemed lost in his own thoughts, sorting things out internally. After a minute had passed, he blinked out of them and returned his fathomless gaze to Simon. "You sure about this?" he finally replied.

Simon's eyes flickered to River, and he nodded. "Almost positive, sir." He looked back at his monitor to avoid Mal's penetrating glare. "I've spoken to both of them, and so has River. Our attempts to get them to stop have been futile. They don't see it as harmful, but it's not the sort of … of companionship Wash needs."

"No, it sure the hell ain't," Mal agreed unpromisingly. His face was cold and unreadable, and his voice was firm and serious.

Simon was frightened of Mal in that moment. He seemed darker and more unpredictable than ever before. "Jayne's intentions aren't malicious," Simon said softly, trying to diffuse the temper he may have just ignited, "just misguided."

Mal's eyes didn't soften any. "Wash ain't right, Doc, we both can see that." He shook his head, unnerved. "This is somethin' I should've seen and prevented, and I didn't. That don't sit well with me none, and I aim to fix it. Wash don't know what he's doing, and he ain't got nowhere else to turn, so maybe I can see where he gets off thinkin' this is what's best for him." His lips tightened into a scowl. "But that _gan ni niang_ Jayne gorram well knows better."

"He thinks he's helping," Simon supplied.

"You tell him what he's doing's wrong?" Mal cut him off angrily.

"Of course," Simon replied sharply.

"He say he was plannin' on quittin' him?" Mal pressed.

"No, sir."

Mal somehow managed to look even bleaker after his point was made. "Man knows better," he repeated, warningly. He turned on his heels to stalk out of the infirmary and only halted because Simon had shut the doors.

"Where are you going?" Simon asked hesitantly, not moving to follow him.

"Gonna get me my gun and have a little chat with my _bu lang bu you_ mercenary," he snarled back, shoving the doors apart. As soon as they opened, he charged out.

"Mal!" Simon called and began to follow him. What Jayne and Wash were doing needed to be stopped, but not at gunpoint.

"Simon," River called in a gentle voice. He looked back at her in concern, and she shook her head. "This is what he needs."

"He's going to _kill_ Jayne," Simon protested. He was rather surprised to find that as much as he disliked Jayne, he didn't want to see him killed.

"He won't," she reassured him. "This is how it has to happen. The pieces are in place for a checkmate," she grinned at him from across the infirmary. "But the king wouldn't kill his knight."

Simon looked uncertain, turning back to her. "You're sure about this?"

River gave him one of her withering glares that meant he was being stupid. "You know I'm right."

He looked helplessly back to the stairs, an expression of deep concern etched onto his face. "I trust you, River," he reassured her. "It's them I'm not so sure about."

She said nothing for a long period of time, and her eyes trailed from her brother onto the examination chair. "Simon," she finally said into the silence. When he turned to look at her, she spoke again without lifting her eyes. "He has so much guilt for everything. He thinks this is all his fault, all of it. Everything." She raised her gaze to him, and her eyes were those of a conflicted small child. "He hates himself so much for it, and he runs and runs." She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts. Her eyes pinched tightly closed. "But there's nowhere else to run."

Three large steps carried Simon over to her, and he slipped his hand comfortingly over hers. "_Mei-mei_," he whispered soothingly. He shushed her, and when her eyes reopened, he countered gently, "Sometimes you have to run far enough away that you can turn back and see the whole picture. You can't solve anything if you don't know all the variables." He smiled at her softly.

Her eyes studied his for a few moments, and then she nodded. They still seemed too young and too conflicted, but they were reassuring. "The guilt is thick and cloying. It chokes the entire ship. But cast it off, and she'll sail true."

Simon swallowed hard and nodded. "That she will, but we've got to save Wash before we save Mal." His smile was sad. "And I don't even know if that's possible."

River looked away from him, her fingers curling along the hem of her skirt. "It's all the same," she whispered softly. "He's the source. Ripple effect." Her eyes squeezed shut tightly again. "I'm tired," she added faintly.

"It's late," Simon agreed, taking her hand to tug her off the counter toward her quarters. "We should get some sleep. We might have to prepare for a funeral come morning." He gave her a wry smile.

--

More than anything else, the humming of _Serenity_ settled Wash to sleep at night. She sounded different in the cockpit than she did in the cargo bay, and she sounded differently in the galley than she did in his bunk. That had held true for the bunk he had shared with Zoe, and he found that she sounded different in Jayne's bunk, too. The tone was almost negligibly different, but to an ear as trained as his, it was as easy to pick out as a half-pitch step would be to a musician.

Jayne's slow breathing rumbled behind Wash as he slept. Wash stared across the bunk at the opposite wall, listening to the faint differences in the way the engine reverberated here as opposed to in his own quarters. It was a sound that had kept him sane in the quiet of the night, and that, coupled with the secure arm tightly wrapped about his middle, made him feel like he wasn't drowning out here in space. Well, at least for the moment.

Being with Jayne was like juggling with double-edged knives—no matter how amazing it was when it worked, he got hurt in the end. But it was comfortably late now; Jayne was asleep and _Serenity_ was humming, telling him it was safe for him to depart for his own room.

It was easy to wriggle out from beneath the bigger man's arm; he'd gotten fairly apt at it over the past few weeks. He dressed quickly in the semi-darkness despite the fresh bruises and pain that shot through him as he bent to pull his jumpsuit back on. After a few seconds he turned, suddenly aware that Jayne's breathing had changed.

Wash found he was being watched, and his hand stayed on his zipper as he started to tug it closed. Jayne had woken when he'd left before, but there had never been the look in his eyes that was there now. It was intense and pinned him in place although his brain was sending out flares telling him to flee. "Just leaving, is all," he barely managed to whisper.

Jayne shifted his weight, coming fully awake. Inside of another second, he had sat up and adjusted on the bed accordingly. "We got t'stop this, Wash," he flatly stated in an almost morose tone. "Th'Doc said it ain't healthy." His eyes strayed to what he could see of Wash's body inside the jumpsuit.

Scowling, Wash quickly pulled the zipper up and cut off Jayne's view of his blotchy skin. "Tell me you're joking," he edgily stated.

Jayne raised a hand and ran it through his close-cropped hair almost as a distraction. "I been thinkin' 'bout what the Doc said, and maybe he ain't so far off. You ain't gettin' no better doin' what we do in here. Hell, maybe you're gettin' worse." He kept his eyes on Wash, unafraid of his wrath. "Just thinkin' there's got t'be a better way t'cope than this, is all," he finished.

"This is unbelievable," Wash muttered incredulously. "Simon is an insufferable _hun dan_ who doesn't know the first thing about what I need. He thinks he can just medicate my problems away. We can all see how well that turned out for _River_," he snarled. "I can't believe he went behind my back to tell you that. And you _listened_!" He bent too quickly to pick up his Hawaiian shirt and nearly toppled over. He grabbed the edge of the bed to steady himself. "Of all the times for you to actually listen to Simon."

Jayne sat there resolutely watching as Wash angrily pulled his Hawaiian shirt over his jumpsuit. "Hell, I always listen," he replied at last. "Just don't usually obey." He glanced away from Wash at last, taking in their surroundings. "I'd tell 'im t'shove 'is ideas up his _pi gu_ if'n I didn't think he was right." His eyes trailed back to Wash. "But you ain't got no better since this started. I think you got worse."

"I'm happier; doesn't that say anything?" Wash countered hotly.

"Yeah, but you ain't happy 'cause o'what we're doing. You're happy 'cause for a bit y'can't remember nothin' t'be sad for. That ain't healin', that's hidin', and I ain't one t'hide from nothin'," Jayne retorted.

For a time they just stared at each other, and the surrealness of the situation seemed to sink in for Wash. He was standing in Jayne's bunk arguing with the buck-naked man trying to throw him out, which he was strongly attempting to resist. The floor started skewing again, the way it sometimes did before he passed out, and he clutched Jayne's desk to steady himself and fight off the vertigo. "I _need_ this, Jayne," he protested in a softer, more pathetic voice. "I can't go to my bunk alone every night and stare at the ceiling and pretend that everything is okay."

Clearly Jayne didn't know what to say to that. They were reaching a level of emotion with which he wasn't comfortable. Finally he stated, "I ain't gonna be responsible for hurtin' y'more, Wash." His tone was firm. "That's final."

Wash was dark and his features bleak as he stared Jayne down. "Believe me, you're hurting me more by throwing me out than you are by letting me stay."

"Now, supposedly you ain't the dumb one here," Jayne protested, "so how come you can't see what's better for you than me is all them folk on this boat?"

"Kaylee can't do for me what you're doing," Wash began to disagree.

"How you know that?" Jayne cut him off. "You ask her? You ask Mal or Simon or, hell, even River? Gorramit, you even _asked_ Zoe? Or you just think, 'Jayne, now he's big and dumb; bet I could get him t'hurt me real good and make him think he's doin' me a favor'? 'Cause I thought I was, and that's why I done it."

"You did it because you _liked_ it!" Wash spat. "And now you're backing out because you're afraid Mal's going to find out and you'll get in trouble. But we're two consenting adults here, and there's nothing Mal can do about that."

Jayne shook his head. "I ain't consentin' no more. Not to that. You come back, you best be bringin' cards."

Wash was silenced for a moment until he looked around the room at Jayne's clothes tossed on the floor and the other signs of their tryst. "You've got some fucking nerve saying all this to me _after_ I came in here tonight. I don't think Simon snuck in here and had that little conversation with you while I was sleeping, so how come it's suddenly so bad _after_ we fucked?"

Jayne flinched just a bit. It was never good when Wash started laying on the heavy expletives, especially not when he was using them so graphically. "What, _you_ can use _me,_ but I can't use you?" he flippantly replied. "Now, how's that fair?"

Wash didn't know if he should be enraged, devastated, or drop to his knees and start begging. The situation called for all three, and he was exhausted and not prepared for any of them. He had wanted to slip silently out of Jayne's bunk and into his own without incident. All this talking and arguing had given him a headache. "You're an asshole," he finally managed to say in a low, cold tone.

The insult didn't seem to faze Jayne. "Ain't the only one here who is."

Wash snorted and pushed off from the desk to grab the rung ladder when it was in reach. "Go to hell," he hissed and started up.

Jayne sat up further in bed. "Hey, Wash," he called, "this don't mean we ain't friends no more," he stated.

Wash reached the top of the stairs and rested his hand on the lever to push the hatch out. "We were never _friends_, Jayne," he snarled. He pushed the door open and climbed out into the dim darkness of the corridor.

"Well, you're mine!" Jayne's voice was faint, but it carried out to him. Wash turned around and shoved the door closed behind him with a snort. Jayne's words seemed to echo what he'd overheard in his conversation with Kaylee yesterday.

Although the door was now closed Wash sadly muttered, "Well, you ain't his," in reply.

He stood there for several seconds, staring at the closed hatch. He regretted everything that had happened over the last month, but he was also thankful it had lasted as long as it did. There was no way he felt he could have survived that month alone. He closed his eyes painfully and then turned to head back to his own bunk, alone.

And that's when he realized Mal was standing right in front of the door to his quarters, staring hard at him through the shadows with a drawn gun in his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

"Son of a bitch," Mal breathed into the darkness. His voice was low and hard but full of recognition: every hint Simon had dropped him had just been confirmed. If Wash exiting Jayne's bunk in the middle of the night wasn't enough of a telltale sign, his disheveled appearance sealed the deal.

Wash was alert and tensed immediately. Meeting Mal in this situation was frightening enough, but for the man to be wielding a gun in his hand didn't put Wash at ease any. "Mal," he began, uncertainly.

"So, it's true then," Mal stated bleakly. "Everything Simon's been sayin' 'bout you'n'Jayne." He gestured with his gun toward the bunk Wash had just climbed from. 

Wash tried to turn the conversation. "What are you doing standing out here? It's the middle of the night," he began softly, hesitantly.

"Was waitin' for Jayne t'surface," Mal replied in a dark tone. "Aimed to put a stop to this, one way or th'other." He raised the gun as if for emphasis.

This caused Wash's brows to furrow. Despite the fight he'd just had, he wasn't about to see Jayne get cut down by an overreacting Mal. "You were going to _shoot_ him?" he asked, incredulously.

"Still aim to, if need dictates," Mal answered in a cold, serious tone.

There was silence for a moment, and then Wash squared his shoulders off to Mal, planting his feet firmly in front of Jayne's bunk. "Over my dead body," he announced.

Mal looked him over warily. "Ain't necessarily gonna be opposed to that, neither." In the darkness Mal's eyes had no depths: they were just cesspools of black.

"Are you _insane_?" Wash fearfully asked, then his tone turned hard. "We're both adults, Mal. What he and I do together in our off-time is hardly any of your business."

"Normally I'd be of a like mind," Mal answered icily, "but that line gets crossed when what you do starts endangerin' th'lives of my crew."

For a second Wash just stared at Mal. He looked back to Jayne's bunk and shook his head. "It's not like we're building bombs or plotting a mutiny, if that's what you think. Just what the hell did Simon tell you?"

"T'ain't th'act that's at issue here," Mal calmly replied, stepping forward. "If it were just that, I'd as soon look the other way. Certainly don't want to get myself involved in this." His eyes were more illuminated now that he was closer, but they still remained just as unreadable. "What you fail t'see is how what you two are doin' is affectin' the rest of my crew."

Wash remained confused, and now he was starting to get angry. "What the hell are you talking about, Mal? No one even knows what're we're doing."

This caused Mal's eyebrows to shoot up. "Oh, don't they? Am _I_ no one? How 'bout Simon, huh? He and River both know, an'that makes three of us. Plus you'n'Jayne makes five, and there's only seven folks on this boat."

"Well, so what? I don't even _care_ if everyone knows," Wash spat. He was clearly agitated by this knowledge being passed around, and he fought hard not to let it bother him. Regardless, it still didn't explain Mal's reaction: he still didn't have a reason to kill anyone. "So that's it? You don't like it, so you aim to kill Jayne and me off? That's real impartial of you, sir," he snarled.

"I don't much like the idea of Jayne using y'for his own gain," Mal stated darkly. "Man ought t'know better than that. Think maybe he ought to be taught a lesson in learnin' t'listen t'what his authorities tell him. An'you done come and heaped this mess upon me, and it ain't a kindess." He paused for a second.

"Need me t'go on?" Mal asked. "I ain't seen River in a state like this for over a year now. Trust this boat to that girl these days, and if she's got her thoughts all muddled with what you and Jayne are doing, she can't fly right. She don't fly right, we crash and die. And I don't like dying, not particularly." He looked Wash over. "Get th'feelin' you don't care for it much, neither."

Mal circled to the left, trying to get past Wash and closer to Jayne's bunk. "Now, that girl's certainly had some truly crazy notions, but every time she starts up with the yammerin', it tends t'turn out what she's sayin' makes a kind of sense. Surely saved us on more than one occasion. So when she tells me I better put an end t'you two or else risk my whole crew, I don't see much choice nor reason t'hesitate."

"Gorramit, Mal, you are the most stubborn _hun dan_ in existence," Wash snarled, but he didn't back off. "Always fighting for the moral high ground, protecting the crew even if that means killing half of it off." Wash crossed his arms. "Well, you can forget your crusade now. Jayne wasn't using me; if anything, I was using him. And anyway, it's over now." He lifted his chin to gesture towards the bunk. "Man-ape here listens to the Doc more than we ever thought. He dumped me tonight, per Simon's request."

Silence stretched between them for a bit as Mal tried to work his brain around all of that. When he finally did, some of his tension deflated. His brow furrowed as he demanded, "What the hell were you _thinkin'_, Wash?"

"_Ji du,_ Mal, don't make me explain this."

"You'd best be 'cause my finger's still feelin' a mite tetchy on this here trigger, and I ain't sure I can trust neither one of you _sha gua_ anymore."

Wash sighed heavily and looked around the crew quarters. "Fine," he sighed, "but not here," he gestured with a hand. "And not with you pointing a gun at me."

"Suit yourself," Mal agreed and stuck his gun back in its holster. "Galley, then," he prompted and turned, gesturing for Wash to go first.

With a last glance back at Jayne's bunk, Wash bowed his head resignedly and headed into the kitchen. He pulled out a chair at the table but just leaned against the back of it. Mal followed him down the stairs and stood at the front of the table, arms crossed expectantly.

"Now, I don't expect you to start getting' int'detail, here. In fact, I'd take it as a kindness if you didn't. But I do expect y't'tell me what in the gorram hell you thought you'd accomplish with this _yu ben_ scheme you cooked up with Jayne."

Wash looked away from him. Standing in the well-lit kitchen without the danger of Mal killing anyone made it harder for him to start talking. The location had gotten too comfortable, and everything he had to say was messed up. It was too dysfunctional for the comfort the kitchen usually provided. He stared hard at the floor and ran a hand up into his hair. "I'm messed up bad, Mal," he finally whispered.

Mal said nothing. He simply stood there and watched Wash and listened.

Receiving no reply, Wash looked over to Mal briefly. His stony hard features weren't any softer, so he averted his eyes again and continued with great difficultly. "I can't even really explain it." He paused to sigh and gather his words. "I sort of fell into it, and it worked out; he didn't exactly protest. It meant I got a few hours of sleep each night and that, for a little while, I could forget about how horrible life is." His hands flexed at his sides, and he shook his head. "I mean, at least Jayne _tried_. Maybe it's not the right thing, but it was what I needed—someone to be there for me, to comfort me."

"Jayne weren't providing comfort, Wash," Mal replied in a flat voice.

"I don't expect you to ever understand, Mal," Wash grumbled softly. "But I've got a pain so deep that nothing else could get it out. I _needed_ that. I _still_ need it." Wash's eyes had unfocused as he stared at the floor, but he didn't mind it, for once.

Mal's weight shifted as he lowered his arms, but he didn't draw any closer. "Pain is a language I speak fluently, Wash," he returned, his tone just a bit softer. "I seen a whole lot of if in my time, and I know I don't got to remind you of that. 

"You got a fine, healthy wife won't take you back just now, and some friends that maybe ain't yet comfortable about you. You got a few maladies ain't healin' right 'cause you ain't followin' doctors orders, and you're belly aching 'bout all that? Hell, Wash, I seen more death and destruction than anyone on this boat. I ought t'be doubled over with guilt every day. I got every reason in the 'verse t'be escapin' to a place where physical pain overrides the mental pain." His tone was gentler now, and he drew closer to add with a smirk, "but even I ain't sleepin' with Jayne t'get over it."

The comment caused Wash to look up and over at Mal and a faint smile graced his lips at the absurdity of it all. He quickly sobered, his eyes reflecting his sadness. "You've never died, Mal." He gestured ineffectively at the air in front of him. "You don't know what it's like to see your wife and know that she's right there--everything about her is perfect and the same--yet you _can't have her._ You feel the same way about her, but she doesn't feel the same about you anymore. When I needed her the most, she turned her back to me." 

Wash's fingers gripped tightly into fists, and he exhaled the pain inside him. "You've never woken up in an Alliance hospital and laid there all day, staring at the ceiling, trying with all your might to remember how you got there and where the last month of your life had gone."

Wash turned his head and fixed his bloodshot eyes on Mal. "You've never forgotten your mother's name or whether or not you had any siblings. There are huge patches of my memory just _missing_, Mal. And I used to be a pilot! One of the best gorram pilots ever come out of Orion Flight Academy, practically head of my class! I'm almost afraid to fly this boat again because you won't let me, and maybe I shouldn't ever be able to. Sometimes my fingers tremble just bringing my _kuai zi_ to my mouth to eat."

Wash looked away again, his expression darkening even more. "You've never laid alone in bed and realized everyone you know and love was a whole lot happier _when you were dead_."

Wash fell into silence, and Mal let him stand there for a moment, thinking on what he'd just said. Mal pulled out the chair beside Wash's and leaned up against it beside him. "I've seen thousands of my men lying dead on the fields around me," he quietly stated. "I've smelled their corpses rotting in the sun. I even been responsible for killin' a few of them myself, many my friends, as a mercy. I seen the planet I was born on razed by the Alliance; seen my own ma's flesh burnt and known I hadn't been there t'save her. Known she'd died wonderin' where I was, why I went off t'fight this war but wasn't there when it came home t'her.

"I woke in cold sweats every night for months knowin' it was _me_ that took Zoe's man from her. It was my plan cost you your life, my scheme what broke the unbreakable. I killed Book. I killed the Sanchez brothers, Lee Chen and Patience, Fanty and Mingo, Mr. Universe and all those children. Those deaths are _my_ fault. I should've prevented them." His eyes narrowed darkly, staring at the floor. "I know pain, and I know loss. We all have our ghosts, and we all have different ways of comin' t'terms with them. All I'm sayin' is that what you're doing ain't the right way."

The air was rife with the silent tension between them. At last, Wash nodded and pushed off the chair to face Mal. "I know it isn't right. And I'm not going to see Jayne again," he stated flatly. "Not like I was, anyway. But these words of encouragement from you are hardly sound advice." Mal looked up at him, their eyes reflecting the sorrow between them. Wash put on a faint smile, but his tone was disdainful. "The way you deal isn't any healthier than the way I deal."

There was another moment of silence. Their eyes seemed to say more than their words could, and Mal found it hard to look away from him. They both knew in that moment that Wash was right.

Wash shrugged, finished with the confrontation and the conversation. He turned and mounted the stairs, heading out of the kitchen. He put his foot on the door to his quarters and popped it open, throwing one last glance into the galley. "G'night, Mal," he called rather sadly.

"Wash," Mal called and halted him before he slipped into his room. "I catch you with Jayne after this, hurtin' yourself again," he put his hand on his gun, "I won't be issuin' a warnin' t'neither of you."

Wash just nodded, giving him a sad look. "You won't get your second chance," he supplied and slipped down into his bunk.

That night was the first night he'd truly slept alone since starting in with Jayne.   
--

Wash awoke several hours later when _Serenity_ broke atmosphere. He was discontent to realize he hadn't even known they'd be going planet-side today. He hadn't paid much attention at all to the jobs the crew had been pulling lately, choosing instead to exist in his own slowly collapsing, little world.

Sitting up, he found that his mind had changed over night. He wanted a new lease on life, and he wanted to try again. He wanted to know where they were going and why, and he wanted to get his head out from under the dark cloud he'd taken refuge under. He definitely wasn't going to let himself fall apart simply because the unhealthy relationship with Jayne had folded. He was going to find another, better way to deal with his pain, or at least he was going to try.

By the time he had dressed and dragged himself out of his bunk, the ship had landed and the cockpit was empty. He headed down to the cargo bay where he found Mal, Jayne, and Zoe loading several heavy, freshly excavated crates. Wash's eyes narrowed a little at the blatant Blue Sun logo on each one.

"We takin' jobs for the Alliance now?" he asked skeptically as he hit the ground floor.

The three looked up at him, and Wash pointedly kept his eyes focused on Mal's face. Both Jayne and Zoe were impossible for him to look at right then.

"Pullin' the rug out from under them," Mal supplied, patting the crate he was standing beside. "These are knock-off Blue Sun products. They manufacture them out here on the Rim, some of it nearly good as the real thing and made for a fraction of th'cost. Sell 'em to the Alliance folk at full price and close up shop'n'skip town 'fore anyone gets suspicious. Stick it to th'Alliance, undermine Blue Sun, _and_ make money?" Mal grinned toothily. "Hell, this job almost pays for itself in the sheer fun of _doin'_ it."

Clearly, whatever argument they'd had the previous night had been somewhat brushed aside. Even Jayne seemed to be off the hook at the moment. Wash was glad for that, although it didn't settle the cargo situation for him at all.

"Somehow, I doubt three-thousand cans of knock-off _Xin Zui_ cola is really going to hurt the Alliance that much," Wash projected, deciding to play it cool.

Mal shrugged and bent to shoulder another crate into place. "Maybe not, but it sure feels good sayin' we did it. And the pay ain't bad."

"It's all wrong. Inside out. Has to go."

The four of them turned together, their eyes lifting to the catwalk where River stood staring down at them. Her hands gripped the metal railing tightly, and her hair draped down and framed her face as she leaned forward.

"What now?" Jayne called up, his face a picture of confusion.

"It isn't right!" River shouted down at them. "They're inside, trying to get out. Must get it out. Has to go."

"What has to go?" Mal asked suspiciously. He started toward the stairs that led to where she was standing. Something was off about her.

"Bugs under the skin, crawling," she muttered. "Help them. It wants out. It needs to come out, but there's so much confusion. People _dying_; it isn't their time!" Her hand went up into her hair, clutching it violently.

"River, it's okay," Mal started. "Calm down!"

"They all have stories to tell, but there's too much confusion," she continued, her voice growing more frantic. "Their voices are cutting off. So many places to go. It's got to arrive." Her eyes fixed suddenly on Wash's. "The cargo!" She shouted at him and closed her eyes as though pained. "There are too many voices, too many! Make them stop screaming! I can't understand them!" She seemed on the verge of tears; her hands pulled at her hair. "It's got to get there!" Then she broke into wails. "No, no!"

When her legs gave out a few seconds later and she collapsed on the catwalk, the others started up the stairs at a run. Mal reached her first and pulled her into his arms. She was trembling and shaking the way she had when she'd first come to them, her hands still pulling at her hair. She kept muttering about things needing to get out and how she couldn't hear them.

"Jayne! Find the Doc!" Mal shouted, bending to scoop River up to carry her into the infirmary.  
--

Mal paced outside the sickbay as Simon worked on his sister inside. The cargo had since been loaded by he, Zoe, Jayne, and Wash, and now that it was in place, there was nothing to do but wait. They weren't about to fly _Serenity_ without a pilot. After what seemed like hours, Simon finally opened the doors to the infirmary and slipped out. They could see River on the examination table, apparently asleep. Simon looked exhausted, and his eyes were sad.

"What is it?" Mal immediately demanded.

Simon shook his head. "I can't find anything wrong with her, but she won't calm down. I had to sedate her."

This news did not appear to please Mal. "Well, what set this off? I thought we were over these spells of hers. Been over a year now since she broke down on us."

Simon shook his head. "I don't know. I'm as surprised as you are. All I can gather is that the cargo set her off somehow. She saw it, and it triggered something," he shrugged helplessly. "It's making her psychic senses override everything else. She's hearing everyone and everything both now and in the future, I think. It's too much information, and she's unable to filter it. It's as if . . . the cargo broke her."

Mal's face was stern and cold. "Fine. We drop the cargo, take another job."

"No!" Simon quickly countered. "No, I mean. She's adamant about doing this job. She wasn't very coherent, but she did make that clear. It was the only thing I could get from her."

Zoe, Wash, and Jayne drew up behind Mal, all with expressions of uncertainty on their faces. Wash watched River sleeping through the observation window, and Jayne studied Simon distrustfully.

"Zoe?" Mal asked, glancing over to her.

She inclined her head. "Don't like it, sir," she stated.

"Me neither," he agreed. "But the girl ain't often wrong."

"Why she suddenly go all buggy insane over it, though?" Jayne questioned, narrowing his eyes. "That don't strike nobody as maybe seriously not-right?"

"Don't sit too well with me, neither," Mal agreed, fixing his eyes on Simon. "What's the rec, Doc? You think we deliver this cargo and the girl'll get her senses back?"

Simon shrugged. "I don't know. That's what I'm hoping. I don't know what else to suggest."

Wash looked away from River, his brow furrowed. "It could be a trap. Some sort of clever ploy."

All attention was drawn to him. "Explain," Mal prompted.

Wash looked bewildered for a moment and then he gestured lamely. "Well, what if the knock-offs are a plant by the Alliance trying to get to River again?" He squinted as though he was trying to remember something. "Didn't they plant stuff in her head to set her off? You know, like the thing in the bar?"

He was met with blank stares all around. "You know, the bar?" he prompted. "When River went all crazy and took Jayne out?"

Jayne snorted. "That'll be the day," he grumbled and fixed Wash with a steely glare.

Simon's brows went up. "Well, he might be right, Captain," he agreed. "There could be some sort of trigger setting River off. We know that the Blue Sun Corporation isn't exactly in our good graces."

Mal shook his head. "Girl's seen that logo plenty o'times; ain't never shut her down like that."

"Well, it could be where the cargo is going," Simon suggested. "She might be seeing the future of it. In fact, I'm fairly sure she is."

"And she _don't_ want us to drop it?" Zoe questioned skeptically.

"She was very adamant that it got _delivered_," Simon replied. "I don't know what exactly will happen, but I think we should take it and make the rendezvous point. Maybe the people there can give us a clue about what's inside."

"Or we could put it right back out in that hole and forget about all this," Jayne countered. "I, for one, ain't welcoming a return to dearly departed crazy-person River."

Mal seemed to be contemplating a dark decision. "Girl might only get worse we take the cargo back off the boat. She wants it delivered, then maybe we best get to deliverin'. If she don't improve as we get closer, then maybe we review our options again."

Simon nodded in silent agreement.

Mal looked to Zoe for her confirmation. She shifted her weight. "Don't like it, but don't see as how we have much choice."

Jayne grunted. "Well, fine. We get rid of the cargo either way, but least this way we get paid." He nodded towards the infirmary. "Ain't we forgettin' something though?" he asked. Off everyone's expectant looks, he added, "River being all unconscious means we ain't got ourselves a pilot."

Zoe glanced to Mal, but everyone else immediately focused their eyes on Wash.  
--

Mal stalked up the stairwell from the cargo bay to the crew quarters with Zoe hot on his heels. Wash had already gone up to the cockpit to prep the ship, and Jayne had stayed below to secure the cargo.

"Just don't see why you can't fly her, sir," Zoe called as she followed Mal up the stairs. "He ain't exactly a picture of health these days. Won't do us no good he crashes us into our rendezvous point."

Mal turned around sharply on the stairs and looked down at Zoe. His eyes were dark and serious, and he found the seclusion of the long stairwell adequate privacy for his statement. "You gonna take everything from him, woman?" he questioned hotly. "You took his love, you took his friendship. You ain't even tried to open up t'him again. The man needs to fly much as he needs to breath. Don't take this from him."

This brought Zoe up, and she blinked at him in shock. Clearly, she was at a loss for words. "Sir?" she finally managed. "You been talkin' to him?"

Mal pressed his lips together tautly for a moment and then nodded. "I have. Gave me a bowl o'insight, too. Y'ought t'try it. What I think he needs is something familiar to hold to, what he can touch and believe in. He ain't getting that from you, and he ain't likely t'get it from anyone else on this boat, neither. I ain't been payin' enough attention to his needs, and now that's gonna change. He's got two loves, and them's you and this boat. I can't give him you, but I can let him fly her. Do him a world of good, too, I reckon."

He stared at her a moment longer before turning the corner and starting up the second flight of stairs.

Zoe remained on the landing for a moment, watching Mal's back as he climbed up. Then she shook her head and started up after him. "Thinkin' you've gotten too trustin' these days, sir," she called.

He turned back around at those words, staring down the stairwell at her. His eyes were dark and narrowed. "Least one of us has," he retorted. He paused for a moment, choosing his words, and pointed at her. "You say 'I told you so' if this don't work; I'll let you, no arguments. It does work; I don't want t'hear another complaint about it."

Zoe knew her place. "Yes, sir," she responded cautiously.

"Good. Now, we got a job t'do." He resumed his ascent and came out on the landing at the crew quarters. He turned and stalked up the stairs to the cockpit to find Wash already seated in the pilot's chair with the ship's engines started and the take-off sequences half initiated.

Mal surveyed the console briefly and nodded. "Good, let's take her up." He moved to the co-pilot seat and slid in; he was willing to trust, but he wasn't going to be reckless. Zoe came onto the bridge a moment later.

Wash didn't reply; he was already completely engrossed in his job. His hands operated without him thinking about it, turning knobs and flipping switches as he finished the take-off sequence for the ship. The engines started,and _Serenity_ rumbled to life. He glanced once at his co-pilot and took the yoke in one hand, pressing the final ignition sequence with the other. A heartbeat later, _Serenity_ was in the air, skimming over desert and gaining altitude fast.

They broke atmosphere without incident. The sudden wash of noiselessness that space afforded them was lulling and comforting, as if a warm blanket had suddenly been draped over the ship. There were no tremors, no hitches or shimmies. The transition had been flawless and right.

"That felt good," Zoe said softly, almost to herself. She looked down and found her hand on the back of the pilot's chair. She quickly removed it.

Mal nodded in agreement. "She knew you," he stated tenderly. "She don't fly like that, not for River. She ain't flown that way since…"

Wash pressed his lips tightly together and closed his eyes for a moment, soaking in the feelings. There was none of the tension he'd thought he would have sitting in the pilot's chair again. He didn't fear it. He had no flashbacks of a death he couldn't remember. He just felt a great sense of homecoming and belonging.

Opening his eyes, he looked out at the stars through the observation windows and sighed. "Well, it's nice to know someone here missed me." It was a whisper, but loud enough that the other two heard him.

Zoe looked at the back of Wash's head for several seconds before focusing on the stars. "How long 'til we reach our destination?" she questioned, breaking the mood.

Mal pressed a few buttons. "About five days, we keep this course and the girl don't have any worse attacks." He looked up from the console to Wash and then to Zoe. There seemed to still be something innately right about their positioning, even though the peaceful quiet had been disrupted.

Zoe nodded and addressed Wash without looking at him. "You get us there in one piece, maybe people'll start respectin' you again, Pilot." She turned on her heels and headed out. "Better check on the girl, see that she ain't offed the Doctor yet."

Once her footsteps had receded, Wash let a goofy grin creep onto his face. His hands were light and comfortable on the yoke, and he leaned back in the pilot's chair easily. From his view, he could see three of his dinosaurs on the console as well as the flight plan he had charted and imputed. Beyond that, he could make out a bit of Mal's reflection in the observation glass. "That went better than expected," he stated faintly.

Mal nodded to himself thoughtfully. "Woman was always a mite unpredictable."

Wash agreed with a single nod, and as he did, his smile faded down. He patted _Serenity_ softly with one hand and shook his head. A thought occurred to him, and his eyes saddened. "No. I'm forgetting who it is we're talking about. Zoe ain't that easy. I forgot a lot of things, but not Zoe."

"Wouldn't say this's been easy," Mal countered. "She ain't hardly invitin' you t'her bed yet, neither."

Wash sighed. "Well, it's a step in the right direction. It doesn't mean anything, though. She still doesn't trust me. Getting us through this mission isn't going to make her trust me, either."

Mal nodded in agreement. "Hard to trust someone you don't respect," he stated. "Think you'd best be grateful for the little things."

Wash closed his eyes tightly. "It's just such a long way to go," he muttered. "A long, lonely way, and I'm just not even sure the end result will be worth it."

"What's that?" Mal questioned.

Wash glanced over to him briefly and shrugged. "Do I really ever want to just be Zoe's _friend_?"

Mal pondered this for a moment, looking intently at Wash. "Hard t'fall in love with someone you ain't friends with first."

They looked at each other for a long time before Wash pulled his eyes off Mal and focused them on the ship. It was hard to remember that last night this man had confronted him with a gun and now he was being trusted to fly his ship. He smirked a little and nodded. Life could be worse.

Mal had identified the problem, and now he was setting out to fix it. Maybe things could be better. Maybe respect could grow into trust, and love from that. "Well," he commented softly, "I guess I haven't really got any choice but to wait and see."


	8. Chapter 8

River seemed to partially recover from her attack the closer they got to their rendezvous point. It was clear she was still agitated, but her sentences had become less sporadic and she was functioning more or less normally. Simon kept a close eye on her in case she went into remission, but she was given free rein of the ship again. No one knew what had triggered the attacks, not even River. Although she was free to roam, Simon tended to keep a close eye on her.

On the third day after taking off, River found Mal and Wash sitting together in the lounge in the galley. They'd taken to talking there quietly during their off-hours over the past two days. She stopped in front of them and studied their faces impassively.

Mal inclined his head, looking up at her. "Feelin' better today?" he questioned.

She studied him a moment longer and shook her head negatively. "It's confusing inside. Like it used to be. There's chaos, and then it's quiet."

Mal gestured to the chair beside him, encouraging her to sit. She complied, drawing her legs up to her chest. He reached over and patted her knee. "Your brother'll figure it out. He always does."

"He doesn't remember how," River softly replied. Her eyes alighted on Wash. "Things have changed so much. Everyone's forgotten but you," she added in a whisper.

Wash laughed uncertainly. "I think I'm the one who forgot," he answered with a small smile. "Last thing I remember, you were still _all-crazy_."

"Girl got better," Mal intoned softly. "She really, truly did."

River sat back in reflection of this. "The days were clear with blue skies and no clouds." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Time was cyclical again and didn't overlap. The voices stopped crying out for manumission." She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Now they cry again. Different voices; people alive and people dead." She opened her eyes again, still fixed on Wash. "Everyone else forgot."

"Forgot what?" Wash questioned, confused.

She shook her head, almost violently. "_We forgot_! We can't remember if we forgot." She scrambled to her feet. "You have to remember for us." She tore her eyes off Wash with much difficulty and fixed them on Mal. "Help him remember."

Mal started to his feet, confused. He reached for her, but she jerked back quickly before he could touch her. "No, not me. Don't worry about the girl. Waste of time. Time. Too short. So little." She tugged at her hair and skipped backwards a little. "I'll be all right. Help _him_." Her other hand stretched out and pointed a long, bony finger at Wash. "Him."

She turned on her heels and took off back through the galley down the passageway to the crew quarters.

When she was gone, Mal blinked and turned to look down at Wash with a bewildered expression on his face. "What th'hell was that all about?"

"Notice me with the whole not-having-a-clue face," Wash replied, just as befuddled.

Mal gave him a wry grin and sat back down in his chair, shaking his head, confused. "What I don't need on this boat is for that girl to go all _dian-feng_ again."

There was a pause while Wash asserted his thoughts. He shrugged, "What made her better, Mal? I mean, the first time."

Mal met his eyes and held them. His gaze was hard at first, like the subject matter was one he didn't want to discuss. Then, his expression softened. "You were there. You know, when it happened," he replied at last.

Wash's eyes fell to his knees. "Maybe that's what she wants you to help me remember."

Mal mused over this. "Maybe so. Not sure it's possible t'repeat the event, though. It happened back on Miranda after she brought us to that dead resort world. We watched this holovid, and she just got better."

Wash's brows furrowed, contemplating. "You know, that does sound vaguely familiar. What did the vid say?"

One of Mal's hands went out, gesturing. "Just explained what happened to the planet. It was screwed up by the Alliance." He waved his hand a little and closed his eyes, clearly trying to think. "There was some mix up in th'air when they terraformed the planet or somethin'." He opened his eyes and fixed them back on Wash. "Ended up killin' all the folk there."

"Kaylee mentioned that a little . . . and I admit, I did a little research on it before I joined back up with you guys. It all seems sort of fishy to me, though. River risked all our lives to go find this dead world—but why?" Wash asked.

Mal shifted uncomfortably. He was clearly agitated by the conversation. "Well, apparently the deaths were all being covered up by the Alliance, and she exposed 'em."

"And did that do anything?"

Mal looked at him critically. "What do you mean?"

"Well, did it change anything? If millions of people died on the Alliance's watch, wouldn't that bother some people?"

"Perhaps you've also forgotten that war we just had?" Mal questioned stoically.

"But those were losses people were prepared to take," he countered. "An _entire planet_ killed off and those people just swept quietly under the rug? Doesn't that seem, oh, I dunno, a little _suspicious_ to you?" he questioned earnestly.

"Well, that's why we had to tell the 'verse 'bout what really happened," Mal began.

"And so I ask again, did it do anything? Did anything change? Did it topple the Alliance or change the 'verse in any significant way?" Wash pressed.

Mal was at a loss for words. "Changed us on this boat, that's for sure."

"Right. And this is the cause I died for?" He shook his head. "No, there must have been something else. Something I learned and have since forgotten about. That's why the Alliance dug me up and reanimated me. I knew something they needed."

"That's ain't possible," Mal protested.

"Why not?"

"We were with you th'whole time, from the point we saw the holovid about the terraforming accident t'when y'died. Anythin' you saw, we all saw," Mal answered quickly, shaking his head.

This stumped Wash. "And were you with me when I _died_?"

Mal was silent for a moment and looked away. Then he nodded. "Was lookin' right at you, in fact," he replied softly.

"Oh," Wash answered, twisting his hands in his lap. "Well, wait. How did you survive if I died?"

Clearly, Mal didn't want to talk about this. "You crashed us, and when y'did, some shrapnel came through the windscreen," he softly stated.

Wash simply stared at Mal, trying to wrap his brain around the image of that. "Shrapnel . . . through the windscreen?" he echoed disbelievingly.

Mal nodded but kept his eyes off Wash. "One of th'gorram worst things I ever seen." He raised his eyes and fixed them on Wash's. "And I seen a lot. Zoe was there, too."

Instinctively, Wash raised a hand to his breast and clutched at the fabric stretched over his repaired chest. He felt his artificial heart acutely surge with his thoughts and emotions, trying to contain and quantify them. It hurt, and he closed his eyes tightly. "Then what?" he whispered. "What did Zoe do?"

Mal shifted on his seat, angling himself towards Wash more. The conversation had completely derailed from the previous topic, but he could tell this was more important. Wash deserved to know. "She went to you and tried t'pull you away. We had t'go, and she tried to get you to come, but she couldn't. You were pinned right to the chair." Mal cleared his throat and lifted his face to look around the galley for a distraction. "She ran her fingers through your hair," he said softly. He lifted one of his hands and rubbed his face at the memory. "Then I had to grab her and pull her away."

"Why?" Wash whispered.

Mal pressed his lips together. "Alliance was following us. We had to get the message about Miranda out, and we didn't have time to grieve for you just then."

Wash blinked a few times and focused his eyes on Mal. "So, you just _left_ me there?"

Mal nodded. "Weren't easy, believe you me."

"And you're _sure_ I was dead?" he prompted unexpectedly. "Maybe the Alliance came on board and said something important I overheard? Maybe that's it?"

The look Mal gave him told him he was far from the mark. "Wash . . . there ain't no way. You died instantly," he explained. The strangeness of the conversation struck Mal briefly before he continued. "That thing went right through your heart."

Disturbed by all of this, Wash pushed to his feet and paced a little. "Well, then what River's saying doesn't make any sense."

Mal sighed deeply. "She don't always got to." He got to his feet. "Look, didn't mean t'upset y'none. Try not t'let River worry you."

"I appreciate you telling me, Mal. I really do," Wash replied.

Mal didn't know how to respond to that, so he just gave a sad, little smile to Wash. "I've got things to, you know, do. Captainy things."

"Of course."

"I'll talk to you later," he assured him.

Wash shook his head, bemused, as he watched Mal stalk off across the galley and vanish down the corridor to the cargo bay.  
--

"Kaylee," Wash called as he poked his head into the engine room. "Can I borrow you for a few minutes?"

Kaylee was working with a small, silver tool to par and separate some of _Serenity_'s wires that ran out of her Grav Boot. "Wash!" she said cheerfully, looking up. "What can I do you for?"

Wash held in his hand two silver cans of vegetables. "I'm going to make dinner tonight," he explained. "And since, ideally, I'd like it to be _palatable,_ I thought I'd get your help."

"Oh, shiny!" she exclaimed. She replaced one of the wires back into its socket and got to her feet, wiping her greasy hands on her coveralls. "Of course I'll help! Though I ain't hardly the best cook on this boat, not by far."

"I'll take whatever help I can get," Wash replied with a soft smile on his face. "Zoe and I aren't exactly buddy-buddy yet, and I'd really rather not have to ask Jayne."

"Well, River ain't so bad," Kaylee suggested with a shrug.

"Did I mention I'm going for _edible_?" Wash repeated. "Right now River's sort of still . . . more likely to dump the ingredients into my hair and scream about the cargo than exactly help me prepare a proper meal."

Kaylee matched his grin and nodded. "Well, you do got a point." She bent and closed the casing on the wire bed before standing up. "Lemme just wash up real quick, and I'll be happy to help you. There any special occasion?"

Wash turned and started walking down the corridor that separated the engine room from the kitchen as she followed him. "Not particularly. Just feel I ought to pull my weight on this boat a bit, and we haven't had a decent meal in some time. Figured me making something could be a bit of a thank-you to Mal for putting up with me for so long."

Kaylee grinned brightly and stepped into the galley as Wash stepped aside to let her enter first. "Oh, well, that's real shiny, Wash." Her eyes twinkled as she looked over at him. "You two sure been spendin' lots of time together lately," she noted as she passed the table, heading to the sink to wash her hands. "Seems every time I come out t'th'kitchen lately, there you are gabbin' away like a pair o'hens." She laughed.

Wash looked embarrassed but was good-natured about it. "Yeah," he fidgeted and set the cans on the countertop, smiling nervously. "Well, he's actually started taking time out of his busy, angst-filled day to notice I exist. In the end, it's rather beneficial to both of us, I think."

Kaylee studied him while she lathered and scrubbed. "Yeah. Your temper sure has improved lots."

Wash pulled the electric can opener to him and started on the cans he'd brought her. "Yeah." He seemed ashamed about it. "I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

She turned the sink water off. "You know," she said softly as she dried her hands and walked to him, "I was always there for you. I tried t'be, leastways."

"I know," he answered resignedly. Kaylee got a pot out and handed it to him; he poured the contents from the first can into it. "I just didn't want to burden you with my problems."

He thought Kaylee would have been more upset by this, but she just nodded. "Know how that is," she whispered.

His back stiffened as he realized she had lots of secrets that she, too, had been bottling up inside. He didn't think she'd found an outlet for them yet, either. "If you ever want to talk to me, you can, you know," he offered.

Kaylee took the pot from him, added some water, placed it on the stovetop, and set it to cook. "That's real sweet of you, Wash. But I know y'don't bother me 'cause y'don't want t'load me down with your problems, and, likewise, I don't want t'load you with mine."

Wash felt bad about this development, but also a little grateful. He slipped the second can into the can opener and sighed. "How do you deal with it all?"

Kaylee gave him a sweet, reassuring smile. "I wave 'Nara lots," she answered cheerfully. "That, and chocolate." She laughed.

Wash's eyebrows went up, surprised. "You _have_ chocolate?"

Kaylee shrugged. "Well, I did. It's all gone now."

He tried not to look too crestfallen. "So . . . Inara, huh? You two talk a lot?" he asked casually as he threw the lid away and poured the contents into the pot.

"Probably once a week," Kaylee replied. "What else we makin' with this?"

Wash looked at the canned corn and carrots now cooking and then back to Kaylee. "Maybe some chicken protein? Mal likes chicken, right?"

Kaylee nodded. "Yeah." She began opening the storage lockers, looking for the protein stock.

"So, once a week. Wow. How is she?" he questioned.

Kaylee spoke as she pulled out protein and set it aside. "She's good. Teachin' at a Training House out on the Border, like she was before. They respect her real well, I guess, and she likes the calm."

"Does she know I'm--" he gestured with the spoon he'd picked up to stir the vegetables with, "you know, all back and uncorpsified and stuff?"

Kaylee laughed softly. "Yeah, I told her. She was skeptical at first, but I think she sort of understands now. She says weirder things have happened."

"Really?" Wash asked, looking over his shoulder as Kaylee cut the protein down and laid out spices to roll it in. "What's weirder than guys coming back from the dead?"

"How 'bout that time Jayne bought us all apples?" Kaylee answered with a grin.

Wash had to think back, but then he nodded. "Oh, yeah. That _was_ really weird." His brow furrowed at the memory. He was glad to find that thinking of Jayne didn't make his skin crawl this time. "Did we ever figure out what that was all about?"

Kaylee shook her head. "S'what's so weird about it."

"An apple sounds good right about now," Wash stated absently.

"Maybe after this heist we can get off-world and restock. Apples and chocolate, Wash. Real food. I can almost taste it." She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning.

"And a real bath. My god, do you know how long it's been since I've had a real bath?" He sighed at the very thought of it.

"Well, since you're all on the capt'n's good side right now, you wheedle him hard t'convince him we need some shore leave." Kaylee gave him a brilliant, encouraging smile. "I'm countin' on you for this!"

Wash nodded vigorously. "What'd you think all this good food was for? Best way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he intoned. "Our captain is no exception."

Kaylee put the protein-chicken onto a skillet and walked back over to Wash. "Y'wanna cook these, or should I?" she questioned.

"Maybe you've forgotten the time I burnt Book's _garden salad_?" he questioned jovially. "Me with the cooking and the fire . . . not such a winning combination."

Kaylee laughed, set the skillet on the stove, and looked up at him. "It sure is nice to have you back, Wash," she merrily stated.

He looked down at her, grinning softly and nodded. "Sure is nice to be home."  
--

After dinner, everyone retired to their own quarters to sleep off the good food and their satiated bellies. Unsurprisingly, Wash found himself alone again in the mess with just Mal for company. They were sitting across the table from each other, both leaning back in their chairs and quite content with the meal they had just eaten.

"I could get used t'cookin' like that every night," Mal mused softly.

Wash felt more full than he had in months. "Me too, sir," he agreed. "We have Kaylee to thank for it, though. It was her great cooking skills that saved that protein from my fiery hands of doom."

Mal's lips curved into a smile as he looked across the table at Wash. "Glad t'see you eatin' again."

Wash averted his eyes. "Nice to have an appetite."

"You talked t'Jayne?" Mal questioned.

Wash pressed his lips together tightly. "Not so much with the talking," he answered and brought his gaze to Mal. "There were a few significant glances, though. Which, I think, means we've silently agreed to never speak on it again." His brow furrowed. "Either that or he's expecting me in his bunk right now."

Mal almost laughed at that. "My brain still goes into horror-overload when I think about it too much. I mean, honestly—_Jayne_?"

Wash put his hands up in defense. "Can I plead temporary insanity?"

Mal arched an eyebrow. "For over a month?"

"Hey, I know," he stated quickly, "how about instead of playing How-Sick-Was-That? we play Look-How-Much-Better-He-Is-Now-That-He's-Not-Sleeping-With-The-Hairy-Man-Ape-Colossus?"

Mal's smile was soft, but his eyes seemed slightly pained. "I just wish you'd come to me first, is all." He shook his head. "Wish I'd noticed it sooner."

Wash rested his hands on the tabletop. "You were too distracted by my clever, unintentional spyish ploys. That, and feeling sorry for yourself."

"What? I wasn't," Mal protested abruptly.

"You were," Wash countered. "You were doing the whole looking-down-and-appearing-angsty thing. You do that look very well. There were long eyelashes and pouty lips and everything. I could tell you'd been practicing."

"What?" Mal asked, his expression somewhere between bewilderment and mirth. "There were no pouty lips."

Wash gave him a 'whatever you say' expression, shrugged, and crossed his arms. "They're not so pouty now," he reassured him. "Haven't seen you pouting at all this week. Must be a new record."

"I don't pout," Mal protested again. "What have I even got to pout about?"

Wash kept a smile on his face, but his expression turned just a little more serious. "Do you really want me to go into that?"

Mal didn't answer, but his eyes implied he wanted to hear what he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"I talk about how lonely I am, and you tell me how lonely you are and how you've learned to deal with that loneliness." Wash focused his gaze on Mal as he spoke. "I talk about what it's like to lose everything I've ever known, and you tell me how it was when you lost everything you ever knew and how you dealt with it. I talk about how much I miss Zoe, and you remind me that at least I had a wonderful wife to love at all.

"I tell you how horrible it was to die and return to a changed world, and you tell me about all the people you've known who died trying to change the world." He smiled tightly, forceing himself to keep a rein on his emotions. "You're a _da nao si wang ben dan_ if you really think those deaths are your fault, too."

Mal looked away from him, his countenance close to angst and pouting. "I should've seen what was going to hap--" he started.

"Oh, shut it, Mal," Wash cut him off. "_No one_ blames you. The people to blame are the Alliance. I know how much you like blaming them, so, all this negative energy you've got?" he lifted his hands and drew them in towards himself. "I want you to ball it up like this," he gestured, "and send it to Jayne's bunk." He smiled.

Mal had to chuckle at that. The laughter in his eyes brightened his expression and lightened the darkness around him. His tone was still somber when he spoke, "Not even Jayne deserves the visions I see."

Wash nodded emphatically. "And you're a better man than Jayne, so how do you figure you deserve them?"  
--

The following day, _Serenity_ arrived at their rendezvous point. Wash sat at the helm, and Mal stood behind his chair. Zoe held her position between the two pilot consoles, and River sat in the co-pilot's chair, claiming to be recovered but clearly still unsettled. Their coordinates for meeting were an arbitrary point in space, but when they arrived, they found no ship waiting.

"Maybe we're early?" Wash suggested, double-checking their coordinates. "Or, you know, they could be late. That's happened before."

"I've got a very bad feeling about this," Zoe intoned from where she was standing. She leaned forward against an overhead pipe, looking out through the observation windows.

Mal's face was set impassively, too. "They should be here." His eyes drifted to River. "You feel anything, Albatross?"

River glanced to him and then back to the stars. "The ship was here," she explained softly. "But they're all dead now."

"Okay! Well, am I the only one who finds that news bordering on the extremely unsettling?" Wash inquired quickly.

"Dead where?" Mal asked her, ignoring Wash. "Dead _how_?"

Her hands flew to the ship's co-pilot controls, and she began typing. "Destroyed. Five days ago." Her typing zoomed in on a not-too-distant location in space, and her finger pointed to it on the monitor screen. "Here."

Mal shifted around Zoe and leaned down to peer at the girl's read out. "How?"

"Fire. No survivors."

"That about lines up with the timing of her crazy spell, sir," Zoe noted.

"That it does," Mal agreed, unhappily. "Wash, take us to these coordinates," he said, tapping the screen. "River, let our friends know there's been a little hitch and their merchandise might be a bit late on the delivery."

She shook her head negatively but went about setting out the wave.

_Serenity_ arrived at the nearby void of space where the ship had been destroyed. There was nothing left now except bits of space debris, small and unidentifiable. "This wasn't a fight," Mal noted immediately. "This was annihilation."

River shifted uncomfortably. "They aren't answering," she whispered. "They can't."

Wash double-checked River's wave frequency and found only static. "Whoever we're trying to call was forcefully disconnected, guys." His tone was grave, implying the worst.

"_Ni ta ma de tian xia bing li di yu_!" Mal cursed angrily. "This ain't no accident," he announced.

"They don't want us to find out," River whispered.

"Wash, take us out of here _now_," Mal demanded. "Don't want whoever did this comin' back for more."

"Where to?" Wash inquired, already turning the ship away from the debris.

"Far is good. Just go," Mal replied.

As soon as new coordinates were set, Mal pushed off Wash's chair and stalked through the corridors. "Zoe, Jayne! With me!" he shouted.

"Wait!" Wash shouted. "Where are you going?"

Mal kicked Jayne's bunk door in, rousing him. "Get up here!" He addressed Wash next. "We're gonna see why knock-off soda's worth killin' for."

Jayne clamored up out of his bunk, and he, Mal, and Zoe continued towards the cargo bay. Wash put the ship into autopilot and sprung to his feet. He had an inexplicable need to be there when they opened the cargo.

He didn't need to glance back to see that River was hot on his heels.  
--

By the time Wash and River had made it downstairs to the cargo bay, the crates of stock were already open. Jayne had a case of _Xin Zui_ soda stacked on top of one of the crates and was pulling it apart with his bare hands.

"What's going on?" Wash asked as he hurried to meet the other three.

"Ain't soda these folks're after," Jayne explained, finally ripping the case open. Several shiny aluminum cans rolled out and fell, bouncing on the cargo floor. They had the _Xin Zui_ cola logo printed on them and a cartoonish drawing of a very happy mouth. There was nothing else. Jayne grunted and tossed the empty case aside.

"Not that one," River stated as glided to them, through the cargo. "This one," she urged and put her hands flat on one of the many crates in the cargo bay.

No one asked questions, they just cracked the wooden crate open. River circled the cases, coming closer to Mal. "Under," she commanded, and soon everyone was shifting and stacking cases aside, revealing even more hidden in the middle.

"There," she whispered and stopped, her hand pointing now at one case that looked virtually indistinguishable from the others.

Mal gave a significant glance to Jayne. No words were required for Jayne to grab it and crack it open like the first one. This case was different – it was filled with dummy cans. River selected one, seemingly at random. She twisted it carefully, and it split in two, opening to reveal a small, clear plastic-like memory disc. She held it up to the cargo bay lights, watching the light shine through the plastic onto her dress.

"Found you," she whispered.  
--

Back in the cockpit, Wash put the memory disc into _Serenity_'s computer and loaded the program. Kaylee and Simon had surfaced, too, cramping the bridge. All seven of them watched the monitor as the first images loaded.

It wasn't a holovid like they'd seen on Miranda, where the problem was immediately explained to them. Instead, the memory tab showed pages and pages of documents and text, most of it clearly originated from an Alliance base.

"What the hell is this?" Mal demanded as his brow furrowed.

River stretched up on her toes to touch the monitor. Her eyes closed. "Alliance bad," she whispered. She pulled away from the monitor as though she'd been burned.

Simon stepped to her protectively, but she didn't let him touch her. "It's all there," she whispered. "Everything we forgot."

Wash, who had been reading through the documents the whole time, whispered, "_Wo de ma_. Mal, this . . . these are plans for an elaborate subterfuge mission that would undermine the Blue Sun Corporation."

"Yes," River agreed, nodding.

"What?" Mal queried, turning back to the documents. "How so?"

River tightly closed her eyes. "They think they can make people better." She whispered as if she was quoting. "Every eye, every ear; they think they can change them, make them puppets." She opened her eyes and focused them directly on Mal. "It's clear, now. I can see the whole." She reached out and clutched Mal's hands. Her eyes were intense.

"Big Brother," she whispered, "is watching you." She released her grip.

"It looks like there's a subliminal program Blue Sun controls," Wash read. "It says here that they've got the power to control what we think, eat, and do."

"It controls the votes," River whispered. Her eyes had moved to stare at Wash. "It controls the feelings." She winced and shook her head. "_My_ feelings."

"I don't get it," Jayne prompted. "What's on the disc?"

"Proof," Wash breathed. "Proof that the Alliance, through Blue Sun, is manipulating people over the Cortex."

"That's awful!" Kaylee cried and looked around the faces of the crew for agreement. "Right? We ought t'do somethin'."

"They killed both our contacts," Zoe reminded them. "We got no reason to assume they won't come kill us, too, soon as they track us down."

Mal cursed again. "It ain't just fate that brings this shit to me," he hissed.

"Isn't fate," River agreed. "They trusted you. Knew you'd do it, if you knew." She kept her eyes on Mal. "'See it through,' they said. Knew you were sympathetic. Knew you forgot; hoped you'd remember."

"Forgot _what_?" Wash suddenly demanded.

River wheeled back at his words and staggered, almost falling over. "Everything!" she shouted. Simon moved to her quickly, but she pushed him away.

"We gotta broadcast something again?" Jayne asked, ignoring River's outburst and trying to make sense of the information. "Well, why we standing here doing nothin'? I say we go find some new Mr. Universe and do it."

"Can't," Kaylee stated. "Don't work like that no more." After the attention had been turned to Kaylee, she elaborated. "C'mon, y'all know after we broadcasted from there, the Alliance took over and shut it down."

Jayne looked at Mal and Wash eagerly, rather anxious to get on their good side again. "So, we storm the place. Can't be _that_ hard. We done it once."

"But it don't _work_ like that no more," Kaylee repeated. 'Lliance fixed it so people can't do broadcasts like that," Kaylee countered. "Not from here, not from there. Not from no where." She took on a scowl. "Guess they didn't like our message."

"Can't you rig something up that will?" Mal inquired.

"What, me?" Kaylee questioned and then waved her hand, dismissively. "Hell no, Capt'n. I talk to ships and fix broken parts. I ain't no good with computers."

Mal looked away from her, disappointed. His eyes focused on Zoe, arms crossed and looking hard at a mote of space between her and the floor. "Zoe?" he questioned, drawing her attention up.

She blinked and fixed her eyes on him. "I ain't eager t'relive that whole thing, sir. Don't quite fancy myself takin' up arms for a 'cause might not mean nothin' and risk our lives again for them that don't want us to."

Wash quickly interjected. "Give me a day to study this stuff, Mal." He was looking at Zoe while he spoke. "Me and River can look over it, see if makes any sense . . . if it does, and the risk is worth it . . . then we can decide what to do."

Mal's eyes were dark again but he nodded. "I want _everyone_ t'get a look at this," he stated, turning to the whole crew. "Ain't gonna go charging in again on some fool-hearted plan if everyone don't want to." His eyes rested on Jayne, but it was clear the mercenary was the least of his worries.

"There's a lot of information here," Mal stated. He bent to type on the controls, sending copies to everyone on the ship. "Y'all best get t'readin' it."

Reluctantly, they started heading back to their individual quarters to read through the information and ponder what was happening. Mal was left on the bridge with just Wash and Zoe. "Where we headed?" he asked after a few moments.

Wash kept his eyes on the document still displaying on the monitor above him. "I plotted a course for Greenleaf," he replied without looking away. "Figured we could hide out and fuel up there."

"Fine. What's the ETA?"

Finally, Wash brought his gaze back to the flight plan. "Day and a quarter," he answered.

"Good. Get me when we're close."  
--

That evening, Wash sat alone in his bunk and read through all the data stored on the memory tab. It was a staggering amount, but the more he read, the more things began to make sense to him. Things were familiar. He knew about the subliminal messages, somehow. Oddly enough, it reminded him of fruit granola bars.

He lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling until the lyrics of an old, jaunty commercial returned to him. He sang the words softly to himself. "Fruity oaty bars make a man out of a mouse." He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the cartoon commercial. "Fruity oaty bars make you burst out of your blouse."

Suddenly, he saw River bathed in a pale bluish-white light as she mouthed the word, 'Miranda.' He sat up sharply in bed and gasped. Memories flooded back to him in rapid order: River taking out everyone in the bar, including Jayne. The crew at Haven and the fire and the stench of death in the air. The soul-scaring remembrance of the name of Reavers being invoked.

His hands clutched the bed sheets as he doubled over at the memories. He saw himself flying the ship and knew there were thousands of Reavers on his tail. He didn't remember where he was going, but Mal and Zoe were with him. He was flying so hard, it was like he'd slipped into a strange zone. There were Reavers and there were Alliance, and they were all the same. He was flying harder and harder, and he knew he could taste the blood in his mouth. He knew he was going to die soon. He was going to be killed by the Reavers.

_Serenity_ crashed -- he crashed her -- but not until he gave the Reavers the flight of their lives. He remembered clearly now the relief that flooded him when he landed the ship largely intact. He remembered the serene calm of an impossible job done well. He remembered Zoe's glowing warmth and Mal's distant praise. And then he remembered nothing. Hollow pain and an Alliance prison cell. He was dead.

His eyes snapped open, and he realized one of his hands was clutching his chest hard enough to bruise. His fingers dug through the fabric to the mottled purple skin that made up his reconstructed flesh. His heart pounded hard in his ears, and he shuddered knowing it was artificial—not his real heart—but it ached all the same.

He struggled to catch his breath and quell the pounding blood in his ears, and only then did he notice movement to his left. Turning his bewildered eyes, he saw Mal's legs as they came down the ladder into his bunk. A moment later Mal dropped fully into his sparse room. Their eyes met, and Mal immediately knew something was wrong. Wash tried to swallow his sudden terror. He wasn't important now; everything else was.

"Wash," Mal began, his face concerned in a way Wash had never seen. He started over, but Wash put his other hand up to block him.

"We can do this, Mal," he gruffly breathed.

"What?" Mal questioned. His eyes searched Wash's for explanation. He almost looked scared; there was an intense concern for him in Mal's eyes.

"We can deliver this message," Wash explained, struggling for breath. "Stop the Alliance and Blue Sun . . . we can do it." Wash looked up at Mal pointedly as he pushed off the bed and staggered to his feet. "I remember everything now. I know we can do it."

"How?" Mal finally questioned, clearly confused.

"_I_ can do it," Wash replied. He took a deep breath and found a calmness settling over him. His look turned serious and his eyes narrowed as he studied Mal's face. "But we have to go to Londinium."


	9. Chapter 9

First thing the following morning, Mal called a crew meeting in the galley. His face was stony and set in the resolute hardness they'd come to know so well. All too often, he had to do the unpleasant things that needed to be done. Wash stood beside him at the head of the table. His eyes were clear and bright for once, although his mouth was set in a grim line.

Zoe and Kaylee sat on one side of the table, Simon and River on the other, and Jayne at the far end. They all stared expectantly at Mal and Wash with dark, heavy eyes. Not even Kaylee seemed cheerful.

"By now I 'spect y'all read through the documents?" Mal started. His eyes scanned his crew, and even Jayne nodded that he had. Mal put his hands on his belt and seemed to chew over his words before he spoke them. "Seems the Alliance sure do like bringin' a nest of trouble t'my boat," he started.

Zoe lifted her chin and spoke up. "We don't have to do it, sir. We can just walk away."

Mal fixed his gaze on her and nodded thoughtfully. "Can we?"

"Nothing points to us," Zoe answered. "We ignore it; don't draw their ire."

Mal kept his focus hard on Zoe. He turned and looked at Wash, his expression rather expectant. "What do you think?"

Wash had already told Mal what he thought. He knew the question was rhetorical. Mal wanted him to say this for Zoe and the rest of them. "Last night I remembered – well, everything." He kept his eyes firm on Zoe. "I remembered what the Alliance did to me while I was with them, and I remembered . . . why they wanted me."

"The air is full of Lethe," River murmured softly, keeping her riveted gaze on Wash.

He shifted his focus to her and nodded. "They wanted me to remember you, but I forgot," he said softly. "They wanted to use me to get to you."

"Miranda," River stated, but it was almost a question.

Wash nodded. "And whatever else you might have learned from them. Miranda was hardly their only offense."

River closed her eyes, breaking contact. She bowed her head and shook it, only stopping when Simon put a hand on her knee. "There are too many voices," River stated in a quiet, casual voice. She bore no hint of her usual watery predictions. "I can't tell them apart," she added clearly.

Wash continued. "They wanted to know how much you knew, how much you unravelled from what you picked up. Did you know about this—about Blue Sun's attempts at subliminal mind control?"

River shook her head. "I don't remember if I remember," she whispered.

For the first time since his return, the pain in Wash's eyes was for someone other than himself. "You've all forgotten," he agreed softly, sweeping his eyes over the group.

River nodded. "I pick at threads, and they unravel," she explained softly. "They fray." Her eyes were back on his. "There's something I can't find."

Wash moved forward, putting his hands on the back of the head chair. "Let me explain. This is serious, folks, and I want to take you through it again before you make up your minds. I'm sure I can explain it better than those documents.

"Let's start with Miranda," he prefaced. "We all risked our lives for that planet, and we took some very heavy losses because of it. And for what? It didn't change a thing, did it?" He let his gaze drift back to Zoe. "Well, it changed _everything_," he amended, "but not like we'd hoped it would." He shook his head sadly and took a deep breath. "Miranda was supposed to stir up the hornets' nest, you guys. When we went to Mr. Universe with that broadcast, it was supposed to deliver a crippling blow to the Alliance – so why didn't it?"

"The gorram 'verse is too apathetic," Jayne replied.

Wash nodded. "There is that. But there's also the fact that as soon as word got out about Miranda, the Alliance slapped together a subliminal message to change what people remembered about the broadcast. They effectively _overwrote_ our original broadcast with their subliminal conditioning so that anyone who saw the Miranda clip wouldn't _remember_ what it really said."

"So, you're saying everyone else thinks Miranda is fine? That there aren't thirty million dead people on it?" Simon questioned skeptically.

Wash pressed his lips tightly together like the news he had to deliver was extremely grim. He looked over to Mal, but he was staring evenly at River, as though communicating telepathically with her. "Not exactly." He returned his eyes to the doctor as he continued evenly, "I mean that everyone thinks it was a terraforming accident that wiped out the population."

He was met with a wall of silence.

"Ain't that what happened?" Kaylee questioned, confused.

Wash shook his head and closed his eyes. The pain there still seemed to show through the lines in his face. "Don't you guys even _remember_ that there were _Reavers_?"

He opened his eyes to the sound of a chair leg grating against the floor as Jayne pushed away from the table, getting to his feet. "There weren't no gorram Reavers nowhere," he spat, as if invoking the name alone would draw them to _Serenity_.

"You're wrong," Wash forcefully stated with enough conviction to still even Jayne. The two of them stared at each other from across the table, and the tension level in the room rose. "We had to get to Miranda from Haven. That whole area is Reaver territory." He tore his eyes off Jayne and looked to Zoe. "Tell me how we got to Miranda without passing through the Reavers?"

She didn't answer.

"There weren't no gorram Reavers," Jayne repeated.

"There _were_," Wash enforced. "There were hundreds of Reavers, and _that's_ why we crashed. We pitted the Reavers against the very Alliance who made them, and we didn't all survive that battle."

"What are you talkin' about, Wash?" Kaylee asked. Her brow furrowed in deep confusion. "The Alliance didn't make Reavers."

Wash's hands tightened on the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Listen you guys, I can't explain all of this so you'll understand. You can't remember because you've all been subliminally conditioned not to." He looked up. "The Alliance tried to make the people on Miranda better by putting pax in the air that would calm them, so they wouldn't be prone to aggression or crime, things like that." He shook his head. "Instead, it made everyone stop doing anything." He focused his eyes on River. "They all just laid down and died."

River shivered at the intensity of his gaze.

Wash continued. "But some of them had the adverse reaction – they turned violent and unpredictable, and that violence surged into what we now know as Reavers. The Alliance created them, and the Blue Sun Corporation covered it up."

Zoe pushed to her feet and addressed Mal. "You believe this _ji bai long men zhen_, sir?"

"Don't see how I can't," Mal answered flatly.

"You remember what he's sayin'?" she pressed, her tone hard.

"No." Off her flat reaction, he added, "but I know what I feel is right. What he's sayin' feels right, and all these other lies, this _truth_ we been living, don't."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Is that 'cause you want t'be a big time hero, sir, or 'cause you really think what he's sayin' makes more sense than the truth we know?"

Mal took a step towards her. "I know I look into his eyes and see the truth of things when no one else does, just like I look into your eyes and see the fear ain't no one else can see." He held her unflinching gaze. "You plannin' t'start questionin' my orders now? 'Cause maybe things really have changed that much."

Zoe pressed her lips together like she tasted something foul. She shifted her weight and clearly switched from defensive to offensive. "You don't _think_, sir, this ain't just a little suspicious?" She gestured very briefly towards Wash, not answering Mal's question. "_Think_ about it," she added darkly, her eyes narrowing. "The Alliance kills off one of our men, miraculously revives him, and keeps him hostage for twelve months while they try to get some information out of him that he may or may not actually have. Then, despite the extraordinary efforts put into bringing him back from the _dead,_ they decide to _let him go_, no questions asked. He survives that and manages to find us, yet he's _conveniently forgotten_ all the important stuff he'd remembered while with them."

Zoe's eyes studied him closely as she took another aggressive step to close the gap between them. "He stays on the boat a couple weeks--the entire time makin' tensions rise, conflicting the crew against each other, and tryin' to win everyone's affections with his 'poor-me' ploy. Then, when we just _happen_ upon some vessel with some top secret information that'd be mighty interesting to the Alliance, he _suddenly_ remembers that, why, yes, that's what he was brought back for?" She paused for breath, studying Mal's face intently. After time had passed for her words to sink in, she continued. "Or you think _maybe_ it makes more sense that the Alliance came up with some cloned mockery of Wash and sent him on a mission to find us and retrieve this information?" She paused for a second. "'Cause I know which of those I believe," she finished darkly.

The room fell deathly quiet after Zoe's tirade.

There was nothing Mal or any of the others could say after that. They all just remained where they were, staring breathlessly at the three at the head of the table, waiting for something to happen.

Wash moved first, and Zoe looked to him quickly as if expecting an attack. "I'm not asking any of you to follow me if you don't want to," he said softly, almost tenderly. "I don't even expect you to believe me right now. I know how absurd this all sounds. I just want you to hear me out."

They stared at each other for a length of time, Wash with a look of profound sadness on his face and Zoe with a determined, unyielding glint in her eyes. Wash swallowed and looked away from her. He addressed Simon. "There's got to be a trigger. You remember the commercial that triggered River in the Maidenhead?" he questioned, and Simon nodded slowly. "Well, there's got to be something like that for this. There's got to be something that will trigger the subliminal controls on you guys – something to break them."

Mal stepped aside to stand by Wash again. "He thinks if we can figure out what the trigger is, we can broadband it out over the Cortex and fix this whole sticky situation."

Kaylee shook her head. "Yes, but even if we could broadband it again, which we can't 'cause it don't work like that no more, what's t'stop them from just doin' it again?"

Zoe paced to the opposite side of the room near Jayne, who looked agitated that the crew was entertaining Wash's ideas.

"I've figured out a way to break the cycle," Wash replied with a little smile. "What I have planned should suffice to overwrite the entire network from the inside out."

"We're going to take on the _Alliance_?" Simon questioned incredulously. "I hope you remember where we misplaced our fleet of battle cruisers, too."

"I'm with the Doc'n'Zoe," Jayne protested from the far end of the table. "Don't see how this'll mount up t'anything but a whole bunch of bad."

"Even if it is a good idea," Kaylee breathed softly, looking for all the 'verse like she wanted to believe him. "There just ain't no way to get the signal out no more. The 'Liance would cut it off 'fore anyone worth seein' it sawed it."

Wash took a deep breath. "That's why we've got to go to Londinium." After the collective mutter of disbelief rippled through them, he proceeded. "It's the ultimate source: it's where everything Alliance originates, and it's the home of Blue Sun."

Zoe crossed her arms over her chest, turning back to Wash and the captain. "You want us t'infiltrate Blue Sun on Londinium?" she asked. Her voice sounded almost amused at the absurdity of it.

"Hang on, now," Mal countered, looking to Wash with a hint of confusion in his eyes, "you didn't say nothin' 'bout infiltrating Blue Sun."

"There ain't no way," Jayne protested loudly. "Not even 'Nara could do that and she's th'only one we know'd could even remotely have them kinds o'contacts."

Wash fixed his gaze on Mal's. "Listen, you guys. I'll worry about the infiltration. I've got a lot more important things for you to do first." He looked back to Simon. "This all hinges on your ability to break the trigger. I think River and I can help you with it, but ultimately, we can't do any of this until we've _got_ something to broadcast."

Wash lifted his head and looked back to Zoe. "Only Mal's going to really believe me 'til then, anyway." He glanced over to Mal. "And even his trust only goes so far." His gaze returned to Simon. "So, I need you to wake up the world. Wake up yourself and River and the rest of this crew. After that, I think you'll all believe me."

Mal nodded and addressed the crew again himself. "And since we're assumin' that the good doctor here can work that miracle, we're gonna go ahead with the plan. Cain't be wastin' time," he gestured to Wash to elaborate.

For a moment Wash seemed nervous and self-conscious of what he was doing. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Okay," he said, exhaling. "While Simon's getting the trigger figured out, we need to get access codes for clearance into Londinium airspace. It might be costly, but without the codes, we're humped." He nodded to Mal and Zoe. "I figure you two can work that."

He turned to address the rest of the crew. "No matter how pretty we make _Serenity,_ they're never going to clear a Firefly to land. So, Kaylee: you and I," he lifted his eyes across the table, "and Jayne," he added, softer, "need to retrofit one of the shuttles so it reads as a newer class model – something they'd let land. We can probably get _Serenity _close enough to break atmo so long as we just do it for just the amount of time it takes to launch a shuttle."

"Just like the ambulance on Ariel," Kaylee said with a slightly cheerful tone; this was something she could understand. "We can do that, no problem."

Wash kept his eyes on Jayne across the table, awaiting his response.

Jayne shrugged and gestured to Simon. "Hell, if th'Doc can really fix it so this whole gorram plan makes more sense, and Mal's okay with it, then I ain't opposed to it." He let his gaze flicker from Wash to Mal. "Though it ain't gonna be _that_ much like Ariel," he added in a gruffer tone.

Wash smiled, knowing from that moment on that this was going to work. "Shiny," he stated and continued. "Kaylee, I'll need you to rig up some mechanical items for me, too, as well as a fake resume. I'll go over the details later. We'll be on Greenleaf before too long, and we can get started then."

Mal drew up beside Wash again. "Now, I'm clear on what we're all doing for this," he said with a light wave of his hand, "but it ain't like we can pass as corpses again," he noted. "In case you forgot, we're all wanted fugitives, and Londinium is the chewy center of the Core Worlds – they ain't gonna fall for no ruse. Even the slums got retinal scans."

Taking a deep breath, Wash nodded. "This is where I come in. I'm dead." He smiled grimly. "But as a result, all my fugitive files are closed. They scan my eyes, and I won't come up as wanted."

"You'll come up as deceased," Simon countered. "How is that any better?"

Wash shook his head. "I won't. When I first escaped, I tried accessing my accounts and was locked out because I was reading as dead. I couldn't even store the credits I made from new jobs in a bank account because my thumbprint wasn't registered." He shrugged. "So, I registered a new identity."

Mal nodded, thoughtfully. "Tian Tuan Ti."

"Exactly," Wash agreed with a nod. "I told the people on Clemency I'd grown up on a ranch in a backwater Rim World and never registered with the Alliance. They said they got those types on the occasion and set me right up: took my prints, retinal scan, everything." He shrugged a little. "I effectively replaced myself. Tian's a perfect citizen with a clean record."

Kaylee raised a finger, catching on. "And with a convincin' enough resume, y'could get in t'pretty much _anywhere_, lookin' for work and th'like."

Wash grinned and nodded. "Exactly."

"You think you can get a job working for Blue Sun?" Simon inquired uncertainly. "They're not going to hire you on the basis of your resume alone, no matter how nice you mock it up."

Wash shook his head. "I don't need a _job_, Simon, I just need the interview. Once I'm into the facility, all I have to do is find the brains of the operation, plug the trigger breaker into it, and broadband it. Should be easy."

Mal wrinkled his nose. "Seems to me the actual broadcastin' was the hard part last time," he noted seriously.

"Well, you guys just worry about what _you_ need to do. _I'll_ worry about the actual infiltration what to do inside."

"Good enough for me," Mal noted, sweeping his eyes over his crew. Everyone seemed at least somewhat eager to start except Zoe. "Well, doctor," he said to Simon, "best you'd get to work on that trigger. This whole scheme rests 'pon you now."

Simon pushed to his feet, and River followed suit. "I suppose we don't really have a choice," he noted plainly. "Funny how he's so willing to come to me on his own agenda," he muttered under his breath and stepped around the table.

Wash looked ashamed for a moment. He glanced around the room at the rest of the crew with an air of sadness and relief hanging around him, and then followed Simon out. He quietly began discussing what he knew of triggers as he descended the stairs to the infirmary.

When he was gone, Zoe returned to Mal's side.

Kaylee hopped to her feet. "I'll go'n'get started on that resume," she noted as she scurried off to her quarters.

Jayne stepped around the table until he was standing beside Zoe and Mal. Both men were looking hard at Zoe. 

After the galley had been quiet several moments, she shook her head. "You really gonna let him take us right t'the heart of the Alliance, let him go free, and trust that he ain't gonna just turn 'round and point the finger at us?" she questioned.

Mal nodded firmly. "I am."

Jayne shook his head. "There's somethin' fishy goin' on here, Mal. Somethin' ain't quite right 'bout all this."

"Figure it'll all make sense once Simon figures out that trigger," Mal replied sternly.

Zoe kept her arms crossed. "That trigger is probably goin' t'be what brainwashes us all into followin' him so blindly, sir. This ain't a good plan. Tracey came back, you'd not be followin' him this blindly."

"Yeah," Jayne agreed. "What proof we got he ain't gonna hoodwink us and turn us int'the feds soon as we get there? How'd he get you so convinced?"

Mal pressed his lips together tightly and focused on them, nodding. "Ain't got no proof. Man ain't even got a very compellin' story, but I trust him just the same. Some things you take on faith."

Zoe's expression was hard. "_Faith_, sir?" she questioned. "Thinkin' maybe that _yao wu_ already addled with your brain."

"There are a lot of things I ain't seen the past year," Mal stated coldly, his tone serious and even. "Lots of things I turned a blind eye to or ignored 'cause I was hurtin' and couldn't take on more'n'what I had." He shook his head before he started to reveal too much. "Well, I ain't gonna do that no more. Now, I can't rightly explain how I know he's sayin' the truth, but know it, I do. You let him get us through this trigger break, and if after that you still have doubts, I won't ask you t'follow me any further."

Zoe and Mal stared at each other hard as Mal's words hung in the air between them.

"Think even if everythin' were on the up and up, it's still too risky, Mal," Jayne stated, breaking through their tension. "One little man infiltrating th'whole big Alliance network? He fails, we're all humped."

Zoe nodded. "He's right, sir. And if the trigger does fog us up, he'll be free t'get back to them and report us." She took a deep breath and made up her mind. "If you're bent on going through with this, one of us should go with him. Might stop him should he try t'turn on us."

Mal took a deep breath and nodded. "I agree. Already plan t'head this mission myself, whether he wants me to or not."

It seemed the matter was suddenly settled.

Jayne pursed his lips, looking disgruntled. "We gonna get paid for this, Mal?"

Mal broke into an easy, toothy grin now that he knew he'd won. "We sure are," he noted rather lightly. "Just not in cashy money."  
--

Wash dropped down the last rung of the ladder into Mal's bunk some time later. He looked around casually at the interior of the room, noting in what ways it had changed and not changed since he'd last seen it over a year ago. "You wanted to see me, sir?" he questioned, his eyes alighting on where Mal sat at his desk.

"Yeah," he answered, rising to his feet. "We need t'talk 'bout this infiltration plan of yours a little bit more." He gestured to his bed, implying Wash ought to take a seat. "I think we get this trigger worked out, then Jayne'n'Zoe'll be on board."

Nodding at his words, Wash moved to sit down on Mal's bed. "Good," he noted, but there was a look of uncertainty in his eyes. "What's that got to do with the infiltration plan?"

"Well," Mal said, turning to reseat himself at an angle facing Wash, "we all came to the same conclusion. Seems it's too risky for y't'be goin' off on that mission by yourself."

Wash arched an eyebrow at this proclamation. "It's not open to debate, Mal."

"They've got some suspicions," he countered. "Can't say I blame 'em. You do this mission, I'm coming with you."

In the silence that followed, Wash studied Mal's face intently from across the room. "You think I'm going to turn you guys in, don't you?"

"It had crossed my mind," Mal answered honestly. "Know it crossed Zoe's and Jayne's, too."

"I won't," Wash answered plainly. "I wouldn't do that."

Mal nodded slowly. "I know. And I trust you," he said softly. "But they don't, not yet. Point is, it's too risky t'go alone."

Wash got to his feet, incensed. "It's too risky for you to go _with_ me, Mal," he countered. "Even if you just stayed on the shuttle while I went in. And I know you wouldn't just stay there."

Mal looked up at him with a measured glance. "I ain't exactly requestin' your permission."

"You're going to jeopardize the whole mission on the basis that I might be some sort of super spy?" He laughed derisively. "A spy with mental problems who sleeps with Jayne to fix them? A spy who remembers things about my life that no one but me could possibly remember?"

Mal pushed to his feet as an unfamiliar look crossed his face. He tried to assuage Wash with softer words. "It ain't that," he replied, his tone a rich, settling sound in the small space of his bunk. "This only works one way. I got a crew t'please, and this is what it's gonna take. I don't think it's too far a notion t'go along with, all things considered."

Wash pressed his lips tightly together, staring at Mal. "They'll follow whatever orders you tell them to. If it's going to work, I need to do it alone."

For several moments Mal's eyes just studied Wash's face, and there was a strangeness that crept into his expression. When he spoke, his tone was even softer. "You ain't been on this boat the past year. You ain't seen how completely she shattered after Miranda and us not knowin' why. Every month I turned a blind eye t'what was fallin' apart 'round me in the hopes that maybe, if I pretended th'problem didn't exist, it'd go away."

Wash's features lightened a little at Mal's speech.

Mal continued. "I couldn't rightly explain what was wrong, and now I know we'd been under this Alliance spell. Made to forget what we were willin' t'lay down our lives for; what some of us _did_ lay down our lives for. We got a second chance t'fix the woes of the 'verse, and I don't plan on losin' that chance 'cause you weren't willin' t'take a gun hand with you."

When he spoke, Wash's voice was gentler, but his eyes were directed at Mal's collar. "If it comes to gunfire, it'll already be too late."

Mal's mouth tightened grimly as he mulled over his words with a great deal of consideration. "Against all logic and reason you came back t'us, Wash," he stated, almost whispering. "You left and this crew broke, and I think you bein' back's gonna fix us in a way we desperately need." He paused for a second and shrugged, almost helplessly. "I just got you back; seen what good y'are. I don't rightly plan on lettin' you go again."

The tenderness in Mal's voice made Wash look up at him. There was sadness in Mal's eyes, but it wasn't the same sort of sadness Wash had seen since his return. It was an open sadness, like the walls had just come down around the captain and Wash was seeing right to the quick of him. It was intensely powerful, and the look in his eyes spoke volumes more than his words. "Mal," Wash started uncertainly.

Mal's jaw clenched a little as though it was difficult for him to let someone else read him so openly, but his expression didn't change. "I just don't think I could handle losin' you again, not right now," he said in a hushed tone and moved just a little bit closer to him.

There was something Wash ought to be doing right then, but he'd long ago forgotten the proper moves to this dance. So, he just stood and listened to the blood pounding in his ears, staring into Mal's eyes, uncertain if it was fear or anticipation he was feeling. He wanted to say something, but words eluded him.

They might have stood there all night staring at each other, waiting for the other to make some first move for or against. Suddenly, the proximity alarm went off overhead and broke the comfortable silence between them.

"Greenleaf," Mal breathed. He stepped back, and his walls rose back up around him. "We must be there."

Wash didn't move for several seconds, hardly aware of the alarm over the pounding in his ears. He noticed Mal was halfway out of the bunk before the alarm had fully registered. Sounds and motor function returned to him, and he spun around, too. He found where his voice had fled, somewhere in the back of this throat. "Hope River's at the helm," he managed, starting up the ladder after the captain.

Outside Mal's bunk, the ship was a cacophony of sounds and bright lights as they hit atmosphere and began their descent. Wash stood between the two pilot consoles as River held _Serenity_ steady and Mal played her co-pilot. He watched the land surging towards them through the fire dancing on her nose, and he rocked with the ship as she pitched and screamed in her descent. He silently wished again for the companionable warmth and quiet he'd found just minutes ago in Mal's bunk.


	10. Chapter 10

_Serenity_ set down in the city of Lorien around midday. It was a thriving city, rather unlike the sorts of places they usually set down for work, but it had a large transport center and an impressive junkyard where Kaylee would probably have little to no trouble finding parts to modify shuttle one. Lorien wasn't as big as Persephone, but it was well populated and had all the comforts of Persephone City without the heavy Alliance presence.

Kaylee went off to find mechanical equipment to retrofit the shuttle, taking Jayne with her for labor, while Mal and Zoe went to barter for security clearance codes to land on Londinium. Wash was left alone with River and Simon on _Serenity_ for several days in the infirmary. He let Simon run what seemed like a stream of endless, meaningless scans.

Jayne and Kaylee returned on the mule with plenty of parts, and Wash wanted to assist them with the construction work on the shuttle, but Simon required him close by to keep working on the trigger. Wash found it difficult to stay.

River kept regressing, having large lapses of sanity, and sometimes her flailing grew so wild that Simon had to physically restrain her. It wasn't easy to watch, and the neural processors Simon had hooked to River's brain usually gave angry red readouts when she went into her fits.

He wasn't sure it was worth it, not for the first few days.

Then, after a week, Simon was able to cross-reference some rudimentary brain scans he'd taken of Wash against ones he had of River. It was a tedious task, but after many hours hunched over a computer monitor, the doctor was able to pick out the inconsistencies. The readout just looked like a mess of blue and green splotches to Wash, but both River and Simon could compare points between the two scans and say, "Here—it's changed."

He just hoped the change meant something good.

After that, the process was slow as they began pumping in signals off the Cortex. A man like Mr. Universe had tracked and noticed things like unusual patterns popping up repeatedly all his life, so it came naturally to him, but it took Simon much longer. For the most part, Wash wasn't required anymore—they didn't want to expose him to any of the signals in case it would repress his memories again. Instead, he helped Jayne and Kaylee with the finishing touches on the shuttle and found that working along side Jayne again wasn't any different than it had been before.

It took them less than a week to finish it. On close inspection, the shuttle would never pass for anything than what it truly was, but from a distance, it looked like a slightly beat-up 2510 Lexington hovercraft. With the proper clearance codes, it would serve its purpose well enough. Wash was impressed, nonetheless. Even if it looked dinged-up and several years out of date, it was still far shinier and sleeker than the actual shuttle beneath the trappings.

Jayne and Kaylee were very proud of their work; Jayne more so, as he'd never done anything hands-on mechanical like that before. Wash gave them both big smiles and lots of words of praise. Mal and Zoe were equally impressed, although Wash could tell both of them were uneasy having a shuttle in their cargo bay that bore such obvious Alliance coding plates.

Once the shuttle was finished, they had a lot of down time, hinging on Simon's ability to break the trigger. It seemed like he was getting close, but there was no way to rush him and little to do while they waited. Mal put out feelers for jobs to run while they waited, but Lorien was a city with a well-established trade center already, and any jobs they could run would have taken them off-world, which Simon said they couldn't do—they needed to stay close to a broadband source so he could keep monitoring the signal.

Mal wanted to keep a low profile, anyway.

So, Simon and River stayed with the ship, and the rest of them went out into the world. They stuck to the slummier side of Lorien where their faces were less likely to be recognized for the fugitives they were. Mal constantly insisted Wash make purchases—little things like cans of cola or bits of food—to see that every time Wash scanned his thumbprint, it came up as only belonging to Tian.

It would have been an unhappy affair if it had just been Wash, Mal, and Zoe wandering the streets looking for something to do. Kaylee and Jayne were what made it tolerable. Although Jayne slipped away at night to get his whoring in, he stayed with them during the day and provided a running commentary on the ridiculous dress of some of the more fashionable folk they passed.

Kaylee tended to counter them, seeing the best aspects of anything negative Jayne saw, and their friendly banter kept away the awkward silence that might have otherwise descended between them all.

After night fell, they found themselves in a marketplace area surrounded by many food stalls. Some looked unkempt, but the majority hosted edible wares that were decadent compared to the protein the crew of _Serenity_ had been eating. Around the perimeter was also an assortment of tables where content consumers could sit and enjoy their purchases.

Kaylee turned to Mal with large eyes. "It's been _hours_ since lunch, Cap'n," she noted with a drawn-out pleading in her voice, "can't we stop for somethin' t'eat?"

All eyes turned to Mal, expecting a tirade about how they weren't here for pleasure or games and that they needed to be on their toes, or something. He just shrugged, though, and smiled at Kaylee faintly. "Sure. Just don't spend all our money." He gave the girl a few currency bills.

Kaylee's eyes widened and she burst into a huge, full-fledged smile. She looked between Wash and Jayne eagerly and then turned around. "Well, I ain't standin' here starin' at y'all no more!" She hurried off to the nearest fruit stand.

Jayne broke into a toothy grin as well, and after looking at Mal for confirmation, he turned and hurried to catch up with Kaylee.

Wash put his hands behind his head and craned his head back to look at the stars starting to show through overhead. "This is nice. Always good to take the occasional break from crime and thievery."

"Sir?" Zoe questioned, ignoring Wash. "You really think it's wise to let them roam, the kind of mission planning we got?"

Mal looked away from Wash and studied his first officer. "Think 'cause we got that difficult mission comin' up is why they ought t'have a bit of fun." He looked back out to the stalls and smiled a little as Kaylee proceeded to load Jayne down with fresh fruit. "Might not get a next time," he noted seriously and glanced back to her.

Wash grinned at Zoe. "I just love when he gets all doomsdayish, don't you? Makes his eyes stand out. Very dashing."

Zoe's fixed on him coolly, not letting his friendly demeanor sway her.

Her cold expression just made Wash joke more, and he addressed Mal again. "She still thinks I'm going to kill her," he sighed exaggeratedly. Although a smile stayed on his lips, his eyes saddened a little when he looked back to her. "I'm not, you know," he said seriously. "I just want you to know that now so later, when I say 'I told you so,' you only break _half_ the bones in my body."

Zoe met his gaze, and for several moments they stared at each other. "Ain't lookin' t'argue the point," she replied at least.

Wash just kept his smile. "After this job, you'll see." He nodded and then turned back to Mal. "Well, shall we get a table? I imagine once Beauty and the Beast over there finish getting food," he gestured to Kaylee and Jayne, "they're going to want to eat it."

"Yeah," Mal looked back to Jayne and Kaylee. "Hold on."

Mal walked off towards them, purpose in his stride, leaving Wash alone with Zoe. "Well," Wash announced, swaying his hands forward until they clapped, "guess that leaves me all alone with my _bu xin ren_ wife." He looked over at her. "I sure am lucky!"

"It's because I love Wash that I can't trust you," Zoe stated unexpectedly.

He blinked. "What?"

Zoe studied him for a moment. "Safer, more logical course of action says you ain't him. Not gonna be th'one to let my guard down." She fixed him with a hard gaze. "Men coming back from the dead?" She shook her head. "Wishes like that don't come true."

Pain and sadness flickered across Wash's face at her words, and it took everything in him not to reach out and draw her to him. "Sometimes they do," he softly replied. "The Zoe I remember would have been willing to take that risk."

Zoe studied his face for several seconds, her eyes darting back and forth as she stared into his eyes. Then she lifted her chin slightly and seemed to cut him off. "Lot's changed in a year. Found risk-takin' ain't always worth it."

There wasn't really anything Wash could say to that. He just looked at her sadly and shook his head. He sighed and had to clench his hand into a fist to resist touching her arm. "Someday," he quietly stated, "I hope to prove you wrong."

Zoe's voice was low when she replied. "Don't wish on it too long." She stepped past him and stalked over to an unclaimed table. She put her foot on the bench and crossed her arms, looking like a little fortress. Wash shrugged and followed her over.

He sat on the table and put his feet on the bench, resting his elbows on his knees. He was silent for a while, looking over at her from time to time. "I was thinking of growing a mustache again," he announced and smiled when she looked at him. "Then it'd really be like old times."

She fixed him with an unkind glare, but before she could say anything in response, she looked up as Mal, Jayne and Kaylee returned.

Jayne had a small crate in his arms, and Kaylee had a small bowl of fruit she was eating from, smiling quite brightly. Mal had two plates in his hands, one of which he thrust at Wash upon returning. "Here." 

Blinking, Wash took the plate and stared at it. "Is this _bao_?" he questioned, sniffing it. He looked at the neatly formed bun and then back up at Mal, his eyes widening. "You bought me fresh _bao_?"

Mal grinned brightly, pleased with himself. "Well, I know you're fond of it. Seemed like th'thing t'do."

Kaylee popped a grape into her mouth and waved her hand. "He bought Jayne one, too," she stated, "so it ain't like y'got th'only one." She smiled brightly.

Wash studied Jayne. "I'm assuming you already ate it?"

"Damn right," Jayne answered, setting the crate down on the table between Wash and Zoe. "Like 'em real hot."

"Me too," Wash agreed and turned back to Mal. "Thank you for this." Mal nodded contently and slipped onto the table beside Wash to tuck into his own plate of _bao_. They spoke in low, comfortable tones and completely missed the steady glare Zoe had directed at them both.  
--

Back on the ship, they made River and Simon take a break and share in Kaylee's fresh fruit. River seemed to respond exceptionally well to the produce, but Simon spent nearly an hour meticulously deconstructing his orange and ate only that. Despite the conversation around him at the table, he was clearly lost in thought.

The next day, he broke the trigger.

Wash was sitting out in the passenger lounge playing tall card with Jayne and Kaylee when it happened. The door to the infirmary was shut, but they could hear the screaming when it started and see Simon holding River down by her shoulders. All three of them were on their feet before they thought about it, but none of them went so far as to open the door.

It wasn't until they realized that Simon was yelling, too, that they started getting worried. River's screams were muffled but staccato, like she was screaming words. Through the window they watched Simon reel back into the countertop and put a hand to his brow. He didn't look well.

Jayne put a hand up to keep Wash and Kaylee back, and then he stalked to the infirmary door and threw it open. "Doc!" he shouted. "Th'hell's goin' on in here?"

"Shut—" Simon began and then waved his hand at Jayne. "Shut the door!" he shouted before he put both his hands to his head.

"Gorramit," Jayne cursed and slid the door closed behind him. He went to River, who had dropped to her knees and was clutching fiercely at her ears. "What th'hell's th'matter with you?" he shouted.

He looked over as Simon dropped to his knees beside them. His features looked exhausted, and his brow was damp with sweat as if he'd just run a marathon. "Jayne," he panted heavily, and one of his hands reached out and touched Jayne's thigh. Simon's eyes fluttered closed. "I broke the trigger," he whispered and lifted his nose a little, like the memories might drip out if he lowered it. "Go get the captain."

Jayne looked at River with concern and then down at Simon's hand. He then got to his feet. "Y'mean y'remember all o'what Wash was sayin'?" he questioned.

Simon nodded and drew River close to him. He held her tightly as she trembled "Yes, yes, I remember. Go get Mal; he needs to know. Hurry."

Jayne cursed silently about not being paid to be a courier, but he opened the door anyway. He pushed past Kaylee and Wash easily without saying anything and started up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

"Jayne!" Kaylee called. "What's goin' on?" She looked hesitatingly into the infirmary where Simon was rocking River on the infirmary floor.

"Doc broke the trigger!" Jayne shouted down as he turned the bend and disappeared out of sight.

Kaylee and Wash exchanged glances. At first Wash grinned, but then, looking back at the siblings, he frowned. "That's a lot of information to process," he announced, stepping into the infirmary to kneel beside Simon. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.

Simon looked at him blearily and blinked hard to refocus his vision and thoughts. He nodded with what seemed like considerable difficulty. "Just . . . a blanket would be nice." He looked down at River huddled in his arms. "She's cold."

Wash complied, fetching a blanket from one of the storage drawers and draping it around her. Shortly after that, Mal, Jayne, and Zoe came trampling down the stairs. Wash, Kaylee, and Jayne waited outside while Mal and Zoe went into talk to Simon about what had just happened. Mal had a serious look on his face; he meant business.

After a few minutes, Zoe closed the door behind her. The others watched through the window as Simon broke the trigger again and both the captain and Zoe dropped to their knees.  
--

It took six hours from Simon's breakthrough to complete crew recovery. No one felt much like moving. Kaylee, Jayne, and Simon had flopped onto one sofa together, and River had curled up in a nearby chair. Zoe sat on another sofa alone, and Mal sat in front of Jayne on the coffee table facing the infirmary, his back to his crew and a bowed head.

They sat there in thoughtful silence for such a long time that Wash eventually went upstairs to make coffee for everyone.

He handed out mugs to everyone and poured coffee where it was wanted. He reached Mal last, and when he poured the dark liquid into his cup, he gave him a wavering smile. Everyone being so serious and quiet was unsettling him.

Mal's gaze locked on Wash, and his expression hardened. He pushed to his feet and turned around, taking in his crew. His eyes alighted on each face of his crew as he nodded. "We do this."

He was met with silent but firm nods from them. Even Zoe met his eyes and nodded that she was in. "We get to Londinium, get Wash into the complex, and hit those sons of bitches 'fore they know it's even coming," Mal stated

"It's awful," Kaylee cried and lifted her eyes to Mal. "I can't believe all those people—" She trailed off and seemed like she was about to cry.

"But now we remember," Wash stated encouragingly. "And that's the important part. It's awful, but it's not something that should be forgotten."

"No, it ain't." Mal's face was stern and unyielding. "Made me remember why we done this thing to begin with." His eyes settled on River. "Y'still got secrets to tell, don't you, little albatross?"

River was still wrapped in the blanket and holding her mug of coffee between her hands. It made her look young and unsettled, but her eyes were clear and firm. "We see it through," she replied. "To the end."

Mal nodded. "To the end."

"Just hope it works," Kaylee said softly as she set her mug down on the table. "It's awful risky, what Wash's doin'."

All eyes turned to him, and he shrugged sheepishly. Mal sighed and looked back to Kaylee. "Fear not, little Kaylee. I plan t'go with him, far as he'll let me."

"Oh." She smiled nervously. "Well, shiny." She clapped her hands together softly. "Guess we don't really need a captain."

"You're not coming with me, Mal," Wash stated, his tone low and even. "We already discussed this, and I already said no."

Mal smiled at Wash, but it wasn't a friendly or comforting smile. "You forget I'm the one giving rules on this boat. I say I'm going with you, then I'm going with you."

Wash stepped toward him. "Kaylee's right—it is awful risky—that's why I need you to stay. If I don't make it through, you guys can make another attempt." Offhandedly he added, "or come and rescue me." He returned serious, "but at this point, I'm the only one of us who can get through there. It has to be me, and it has to be me alone. You know that," he said to Mal.

Mal's lips tightened into a thin line, and he seemed to be holding back words he wanted to say. He stared at Wash for a while longer and shook his head, dismissing it. He wasn't going to fight, not in front of his crew. "We ain't got long 'til we're in the Core," he noted, turning away from Wash, "so y'all better be prepared. I ain't plannin' on running into trouble, but trouble sure do seem to like us. Best be on our toes."

"I'll make sure _Serenity_ ain't lackin' for anythin'," Kaylee said, getting to her feet. Mal nodded at her as she headed off.

"Guess I'd better start cleanin' Vera," Jayne noted. "Still don't know how I ended up on the same boat as all you damn superheroes," he muttered.

Mal had to smile at that. "Every good superhero needs his dumb sidekick."

Jayne grunted at that as he started up the stairs after Kaylee.

Wash cheerfully called up after him, "Just be glad we don't have to wear neon-colored spandex and capes!"

"Doc?" Mal questioned, turning back to the remaining crew.

Simon sighed heavily and put his hands on his knees. "It's incredible how much information was suppressed and rewritten. I have fake memories combating real ones now, and some are getting tangled in the process." He lifted his eyes to Mal. "If we're all feeling like this, then I don't . . ." He trailed off and then amended. "I'm not sure we should rush into this so quickly. We need time to make sense of all of it."

"We ain't all like this," Mal noted. "Wash's fit, and he's the one gonna be doin' most of th'work. 'Sides, we're still near a week out of the Core and couple more days on to Londinium. We recover as we go; s'how it's always been."

"Now you know how it was," River stated softly. She looked at Mal and then to Wash. "Thoughts and memories come so fast, and you can't stop them or understand if they're real or what they mean." She hugged her knees to her chest and bowed her head into them. "I was happier when I'd forgotten."

"_Mei mei_," Simon crooned and moved off the sofa to her chair. "Don't say that."

She looked up at him sadly. "I don't mean it when I say it," she said and squeezed his arm lightly. "There're just so many voices. They can't ever be silent."

Simon drew her to her feet and wrapped the blanket about her more securely. "It'll get better," he noted softly.

River looked up at Wash and nodded. "It will. I know it will." She pulled away from Simon, heading towards her quarters. "But not yet."

Simon sighed and followed her. "If you need anything," he stated to the others and gestured a little over his shoulder. "Well, you'll know where I am." He turned and followed River.

That left Wash alone with Zoe and Mal. When Zoe realized the situation, she met Wash's eyes. He had an eager expression, as though perhaps she'd take back every bad thing she'd said about him since his return. She just shook her head and pushed off her sofa to pass him. "This don't change a thing," she noted in a flat tone.

She was up the stairs before Wash could reply. He sighed, looking at the stairwell, and then closed his eyes and sat down.

"Ain't got time for sitting and thinking. Least, not yet." Mal was staring down at him, his arms folded across his chest. "Need you t'lay in a course for Londinium. Worry 'bout Zoe later."

Wash sighed and opened his eyes. He focused them on Mal and almost spoke. Pushing himself to his feet, he started toward the stairwell to the cockpit.

"Wash," Mal called. When he turned back, he continued, "We're behind you now; all of us, even her. Don't squander that."

Wash studied Mal for a few moments and then nodded. "As long as it took me to get here, believe me, I wouldn't screw it up for the world."

Mal wanted to say something as he slipped out of sight, but he held his tongue. He waited until he was certain he was alone before putting a hand to his head. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he scowled, kicked the table as hard as he could, and cursed.

Mal was halfway to the shuttle with an overwhelming need to see the stars before he remembered they were on land. His only view would be pinpricks drowned by the city's light pollution. His knees nearly buckled beneath him on the catwalk at the thought, and only his strong grip on the railing kept him on his feet. In a way, he felt like a fish out of water, gasping for breath. There were too many memories and emotions surfacing, and he felt himself slipping away. It didn't matter that he was in the cargo bay; he was melting down right there.

He started to loosen his grip, willing himself this moment to break down. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream and cry for everything that had happened to him throughout his entire life; he even thought he deserved it, if just this once.

Then _Serenity_ powered up around him, humming to life as Wash prepared her to take flight. The return of her vibrations settled him, and his grip strengthened again. He took a deep breath, thanking the pilot silently, and launched off the railing toward the shuttle again. He'd never grown tired of watching the drudgery of city life melt away as he entered the black. 

The cool darkness would settle him.  
--

Mal knocked but was half way into the bunk before Wash could even reply. He landed with a thud on the floor and pushed past the ladder, looking at Wash. "I'm coming with you, and I've got it all figured out how."

Wash had been sitting at his desk writing, and his pen was still poised mid-stroke as he stared at Mal. "You know, generally, when you knock, you're supposed to wait for someone to say it's okay for you to enter before doing so."

Mal glanced behind him at the ladder and shrugged. "Force of habit." He stepped forward. "I got a workin' plan now. Hear me out."

Wash seemed completely incredulous, but he set his pen down and swiveled his chair to face Mal. There was an eager, earnest look on the captain's face that Wash hadn't seen in a very long time. He was willing to entertain Mal just so he could take in the sight of him. "I'm listening," he said with a light tone, still slightly skeptical.

"I'll wear gloves," Mal stated. "Finger scan'll come up blank. Tthey try a retinal scan, I'll tell 'em I'm sensitive to light. We get Kaylee and the Doc t'mock up some sort of notice that looks official and says I'm to be cleared. I'll dress up real nice, buy myself a new suit in the Core. They'll let me pass. We could do it. Together."

Wash had to wait a few seconds to keep from laughing. He couldn't even look at Mal's convinced face. He put his hand to his mouth and stared at the floor. "That is truly," he began, "a remarkably stupid plan." He looked back to Mal. "Did Jayne help you with it?"

Mal straightened up and managed to look affronted. "No." His visage softened a little. "I'm going to go with you, Wash. I can't let you do this alone."

Sighing, Wash turned away from him. He picked his pen back up. "Mal, we've had this discussion." He finished what he was writing. "It's too dangerous for you to go."

"That's why I gotta go! You say it's too dangerous'n'all I hear is 'that means folk'll need protectin',' and here I am! That's what I do." Mal threw his hands out, arms open.

Setting his pen back down, Wash turned off the writing tablet and sighed. "Look, I'm going to say this one last time." He got to his feet and stared at Mal. "I have to do this alone. You've trusted me so much so far. You've gone from the edge of trust to wanting to follow through with this. All I'm asking is for you to trust me a little longer. Trust me to do this, Mal."

Mal's features hardened, but not in an angry way; he just drew more solemn. "I do trust you, Wash. I just don't want to throw y'out t'them Alliance sharks. They get a hold of y'again, figure out what it is you aim t'do, there ain't gonna be more'n'a few scraps of Hawaiian shirt left t'pick up after they's done with you." He shrugged softly. "Least if I go with you, I might have a chance o'fightin' them off 'fore it gets that far. You ain't no good in a gun fight; y'need protectin'."

Wash wet his lips and crossed his arms confrontationally. "You don't want me to go alone because you're in love with me."

The comment brought Mal's shocked eyes up to bear on Wash quickly. "What?" He blinked a few times. "Wash—" He gestured ineffectively. "Is that what you think this is about? 'Cause it's not. It ain't—"

He was cut off as Wash kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise and his back went completely rigid. As one of Wash's arms wound around him, he felt his walls beginning to crumble again.

He struggled with his identity momentarily, trying to make up his mind to kiss him back. When he did, it was fierce and strong. It felt like he'd infused all his strength into Wash to make him whole again, and in the process, drained himself dry. Now he needed to find some sort of balance.

Mal kissed him like this was goodbye and he'd never get the chance to again; like he'd harbored this love for more years than he had known; like he'd forgotten what it was like to kiss and he needed to experience it as intensely as possible to remember.

It was rough but sweet, and Wash held him strong and kept him from falling. Mal needed this, probably had for as long as Wash had known him, and he wasn't going pass up the chance to fulfill the need.

Mal clutched at him for several seconds, his hands gripping fistfuls of shirt as he spent his energy tasting Wash, and then he pulled back roughly. He let go of Wash's shirt, and Wash didn't hold him; he let him back up and stare at him. There was a vague look of horror on Mal's face, but the flushed red of his lips diminished it.

"_Hao wu mu shen de gan lao_," Mal breathed. "Did that just happen?"

Wash managed a smile. It was quite charming to see the captain so flustered. "Yes, it did." He tried to show he wasn't upset about it with a smile. "Do you kiss all your pilots who come back from the dead like that, or just me?"

Mal blinked a few times, staring off in thought, and then looked back to Wash. Ignoring the comment, he went directly to the source. "Wash, I'm not . . . I'm not in love with you—" he quickly stated.

Patiently, Wash waited for him to figure out his words. "It's okay if you are." He shrugged. "I'm flattered."

Mal gave him a withering glare but then shook his head. "I'm just . . ." He trailed off and then looked around him. Spying the bed, he sat down heavily. He put his hand on his forehead and leaned into it. Things were starting to fall into place for him. "Wash, I can't be—" He looked up at him. "I mean, it was nice just now, but we can't—" He blinked again and then raised an eyebrow. "We can't, can we?"

Wash leaned back against his desk and studied Mal across from him. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that. Who knew you were so passionate?" He grinned brightly at him. "I just . . ." He paused a moment for words and then continued a little softer. "You need someone, Mal. You desperately need someone you can pour yourself into who can relax you and love you. And, in a way, I'm okay with being that someone." He sighed. "It's just, I already was that someone for Zoe." His hands flattened out on his thighs. "And I'll always be that someone for her." His tone was warm and plain, like this was a fact of life. "Even if she's unable to take me back, I'll always love her." He gave Mal a sad smile. "So, that wouldn't be fair to you."

Mal stared up at Wash for several long seconds. As he pushed to his feet, whatever fears or insecurities he'd had moments ago fell away. He looked Wash over carefully, studying him completely from top to bottom and focusing in on his eyes. "Way I see it," he said in a voice that was unnaturally soft and open, "we're both in love with women who won't take us." He studied Wash's face intently and raised a hand to touch Wash's cheek. "Does that mean we're suppose t'be alone and unhappy for the rest of our lives?"

Wash was a little scared by Mal's intensity; it weakened him in the knees. He knew his next words could either pull Mal out of his shell, if only just this once, or could lock him there further, maybe forever. "You don't deserve to be alone or unhappy," he finally replied.

Wash raised his hand and touched Mal's shirt. He felt the suspenders and the soft twill of the fabric beneath his palms. Below that, he felt Mal's skin, supple and warm, and his beating heart beneath that. "You need to find joy and light again," he said softly, lightly pushing on his chest.

Mal responded easily, walking backwards to sit back down on the bed. Wash moved over him and brushed his lips against Mal's brow and cheeks before moving to his ear. "Never dreamed I'd be the one to show you the way back."

Mal's hands rose to Wash's collar, and his fingers traced to the zipper of his flight suit. He tugged it down slowly, his eyes focused on Wash's skin, his breath shallow but quick. "Think I did."


	11. Chapter 11

"See, that's what I don't get about you," Wash said as he sat on the edge of Mal's bed and finished lacing his boots. "You're a passionate man, a great lover," he inclined his head conceding and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "and also quite clearly in love with her, so why don't you just come out and say as much?"

Mal stood in front of his mirror, shaving delicately. "Woman's a Companion, Wash," he answered, as though that would explain it all. "Surely y'didn't forget that, did you?" he leaned forward so he could see Wash's reflection in the mirror.

Wash adjusted the tongue in his boot and pulled the other shoe on. "Of course, I remember that. But, you know, that doesn't mean you can't _tell_ her."

Mal rolled his eyes and refocused his attention on the mirror and the razor on his skin. "All right, Wash, sure. I'll send her a wave right after breakfast with a big red heart on it and 'P.S. I love you' scrawled in sixteen different languages. She can read 'em all, y'know."

Wash threw a balled-up dirty sock at Mal's head. "Six months after she boarded this boat, Jayne and I made a bet about when you two would finally hook up." He shook his head. "I lost _two years ago_." He stared at the back of Mal's head, disappointed, and then got to his feet.

Mal scowled, finished shaving, and turned the water on to rinse his razor. He checked his neck for hair or cuts, and, satisfied, he faced Wash. "It ain't like tellin' her would change things. Hell, it'd only get more complicated." He moved to get a fresh pair of socks out of his drawer and sat to put them on. "She and I . . . we ain't like you and Zoe." He shrugged.

Wash sobered a little and paused in the middle of his lacing to ponder that. "Well, me and Zoe aren't exactly best buddies right now, if you haven't noticed."

Mal glanced over at him and sighed. "You two are gonna get back together," he stated in his serious voice. His eyebrows rose, as if for emphasis. "She'll come 'round."

Wash sighed and ran a hand through his hair before he returned to his lacing. "Well, I'm not holding my breath until then."

Casually, Mal put his hand on to Wash's thigh, drawing his attention there. "Hey. You ain't allowed t'give up."

Looking from Mal's hand up into his eyes, Wash smiled softly. "I'm not, Mal. I could never give up on Zoe." He shook his head ruefully. "Just think she gave up on me."

Mal squeezed his leg gently. "That ain't so. That ain't so," he repeated reassuringly. "You're gonna come back from all this, and she's gonna see what good you done." He gave Wash such a warm smile, it seemed like he had to be telling the truth. "And you'll go back t'your beautiful wife and never have t'sleep in a room full of stinky, dirty socks like this again." With his toe, Mal nudged the mate to the dirty sock Wash had thrown at his head.

"And you'd be okay with that? Me going back to just her?"

Mal's smile was genuine. "You just worry 'bout gettin' back here in one piece. I'll worry 'bout me." He tilted his head and gave a playful smile. "Maybe I'll give Inara that wave after all."

Wash slumped a little and leaned against him, shoulder-to-shoulder. It wasn't what Mal had expected him to do; he had hoped for a wacky smile and another witty quip. "It's only been a week, Mal," he noted and studied Mal's fingers on his leg. "Yet, it feels like it's always been this way with us."

It took Mal a few moments to formulate a response to that. "We can do this," he softly replied and patted Wash's leg. "Long as you like."

Wash lifted his head and looked sidelong at Mal. He was greeted with Mal smiling at him. For a moment, Wash simply studied him, and then he reached out and touched Mal's lips softly. He grinned as Mal kissed them. "You're a sap," he noted in his normal tone. "Extremely loveable under all that stoic, captainy angst, but utterly sappy."

Mal broke into a broad grin. "This coming from the man who started calling me 'kitty-eyes' the second night we slept together?"

Wash laughed. "I'm telling you, you've got cat whiskers for eyelashes, Mal," he explained in a jovial tone. "You almost poked my eyes out."

Mal took in Wash's face and features for several breaths, wondering how he possibly got mixed up with a character so colorful. Then he easily moved Wash's hand aside and leaned in and kissed him. It was short but sweet and lingering. He kept his gaze trained on Wash's and smirked at the pleased surprise that registered on Wash's face.

"What was that for?" he questioned curiously.

"Need a reason now?" Mal asked before he bent to pull his boots on.

Wash thought about that for a bit, and then he resumed lacing his shoe. "No," he replied quietly. "Just wanted to know what I said so I could say it again any time I wanted my captain to kiss me."

Mal grinned at that. "You just ask, Wash," he noted and then got to his feet and turned to face him. "You ready for this?"

Wash put his foot on the floor after finishing lacing and looked up at Mal. He rested his hands on his knees and sighed. "Am I ready to fly alone into the most heavily guarded and secured Alliance planet, armed with just a pair of sunglasses and a fake resume?" He laughed nervously and got to his feet. "You bet."

Mal reached out and straightened Wash's collar absently. He kept his eyes off Wash's. "You're gonna do fine," he stated.

Wash allowed himself to be fussed over. "Well, I've gotta come back," he noted pointedly. "I'd be crushed if anything happened to you because something happened to me." He offered a smile. "Now stop fussing," he swatted Mal's hands away and ducked around the ladder to exit the room. "I'm gonna be changing into that ridiculous Core get-up in an hour, anyway."

Mal shook his head mirthfully and followed Wash out.

"Heya, Wash," Kaylee cheerfully called. She was coming up out of her own quarters as Wash surfaced out of Mal's. "Cap'n," she noted to him with a nod and a bright smile as he followed Wash.

"Mornin', Kaylee," Wash replied back to her. He immediately lifted his head and inhaled deeply. "Mmm, coffee," he announced. "Real coffee."

Kaylee's smile increased. "Yup," she agreed. "Got myself some a couple weeks back when we was dirtside. Thought since today was such a big day'n'all, I ought t'share it."

"Very generous of you," Wash honestly stated, looking right at her. Then he turned to Mal. "Wasn't that generous of her?" He grinned brightly. "I'll see to it that not a drop gets wasted." He bounded off down the stairs.

Mal found Kaylee shyly looking him over. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," she noted with a shrug. "Just still gettin' used t'this new happy captain of ours," she added and nudged him playfully before heading towards the kitchen.

"I'll have you know, Wash and I have a perfectly innocent relationship—" he protested, trailing off as he heard footsteps behind him.

"No one wants to hear it, sir," Zoe called from behind him somewhat mirthfully.

Mal turned to question her about the comment, but she just brushed past him into the kitchen, and he had no choice but to follow.

"What I don't get," Jayne stated from his seat at the table, "is why th'hell I get almost killed for doin' what he's doin' now." He gave a disgruntled glare in Mal's direction.

"That's because you ain't good at what you do," Mal answered as he came down the steps. "And we ain't having this conversation at the breakfast table."

"Thank you!" Simon cried, relieved. "I was afraid he was going to start into the details."

Wash brought over his coffee and breakfast and settled down beside Simon. "They're good details, though," he encouraged and looked at Jayne. "I'm sure we broke a couple of medical rules doing what we did."

"Wash!" Mal warned with a serious glare.

"Yes, sir," Wash obediently replied and turned away from the other men and stirred his protein around in it's bowl.

Turning his attention to the business end of things, Mal addressed River. "How far out are we?"

She didn't look up from her food. "We're queued. Number forty-two for entry." She lifted her eyes then, still haunted from the trigger break. "Another hour at most before we're cleared to break orbit."

"_Kuai_," Mal breathed. "Time sure do fly." He quickly helped himself to his breakfast and coffee and joined the rest of the crew around the table. "We finish here in fifteen minutes. I want everyone dressed, on the bridge, and ready to go in thirty. We only get one shot at this."  
--

The bridge was crowded when they finally reached the head of the queue. Before them loomed the beautiful planet of Londinium, sparkling against the black as the billions of lights from its millions of cities spread across the dark side of surface like lace. River piloted easily, keeping her eyes on the traffic markers floating out before them. The trade ship in front of them cleared the check station, and River brought _Serenity_ forward to be scanned.

Behind her stood Simon and Wash, both staring over her shoulder through the viewing glass. Mal and Zoe stood together in the center of the bridge, Mal with his arms crossed and a deep scowl across his face as he looked at the Core of the Alliance. Zoe wore an impassive expression as she watched and waited. Jayne sat in the co-pilot chair, his feet resting on the console, and narrowed his eyes at all the technology he saw but didn't understand. Kaylee stood beside him, her hand clutching tightly on the co-pilot chair's headrest, desperately excited to be in such a fancy place but knowing it wasn't appropriate for her to show how thrilled she was.

"Firefly transport _Ning Jing_," a cold military-sounding voice stated into the cockpit, "you are about to enter unauthorized airspace. Please transmit your clearance codes or prepare to stand down."

Mal snorted. "Like we'd wait in line just to be boarded."

"Friendly bunch," Wash noted weakly.

River transmitted the clearance codes Mal and Zoe had bartered for on Greenleaf. She picked up the intercom. "This is Firefly transport _Ning Jing_; transmitting clearance codes now. Please standby."

Silence stretched on after that. Seconds turned into minutes, and they just sat there waiting for the go ahead to break orbit. The air grew tense in the room as the time lengthened and no confirmation was forthcoming.

"What happened if our codes don't work?" Simon hesitatingly asked.

Jayne grunted and shifted in his chair. "Don't y'know? Y'grew up in the damn Core."

Simon gave Jayne a pointed glare. "I never had to worry about this sort of thing," he retorted a little unkindly. Being this close to the Alliance, who still wanted River, was unsettling all of them, but Simon most of all.

"Simon's got a good point, though," Kaylee noted and glanced rather sheepishly to him. "What if we don't get clearance?"

Mal's eyes were staring hard ahead when he spoke. "We get boarded; our ruse is up. They take Wash and the girl, and the rest of us probably make a new home in prison."

"Or, you know, we could always _run_," Wash pointed out quickly. "Running is something we're actually quite good at. It's a very viable option in situations like that. I definitely vote for running."

Jayne laughed unkindly. "Yeah, like we could out run th'Alliance from _here_." He rolled his eyes.

Wash gave him a dirty look. "Optimism is lost on you."

The room filled with static, and everyone straightened up. "_Ning Jing_, you are cleared for a twenty-four hour entry." There was a collective sigh of relief around the cabin. "Your altitude is not to drop below 8,000 meters; your shuttles are to be deployed only in designated drop locations. Your airspace is restricted to pre-approved air zones, the coordinates of which are being transmitted to you now. Failure to abide by these rules will result in federal intervention. Your access codes expire at 1300 SST tomorrow."

The voice paused, and then another prerecorded one pumped through in a more gentle tone. "Welcome to Londinium, the happy home of Blue Sun. Please enjoy your stay, and live life with Blue Sun."

The transmission ended, and River's fingers were back to typing on the pilot's keyboard. "Transmissions complete," she announced. One of her hands returned to the yoke, and within seconds they were gliding past the checkpoint, heading towards the glossy atmosphere of the planet below them. "We enter the hornets nest," she whispered.

Mal let out his breath and nodded sternly. "Time to stir things up." He uncrossed his arms, moved to River's side, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Bring us down, close as you can." His eyes then lifted to Wash. "You ready?"

"As ever," Wash agreed.

"Then let's do this," Mal called and stalked out of the bridge.

After a few moments of hesitation, the rest of the crew, sans River, turned to follow him. Wash turned to gather the things he needed to bring with him on the mission, and the rest were prepared to see him off. They wanted to say goodbye, just in case.  
--

Wash was the last to arrive on the catwalk outside the shuttle. He was dressed in a sharp, lapelless dark suit with a trendy, fiberoptic tie that displayed various silent Blue Sun commercials on it. The tie fell over his shirt collar and down through the loops on his slate grey dress shirt. The loops cut the tie into separate pictures, each displaying a different product commercial. His hair had been darkened to a rich chestnut brown and styled with a part to the right. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses on top of that and carried a genuine leather briefcase.

His strides were long and purposeful, and he kept his head held high and proud. As the crew turned to watch him approach down the catwalk, a ripple of awe washed over them; they almost didn't recognize him.

It wasn't until he stopped and pulled the sunglasses off with a bright, characteristic smile that the universe started spinning normally again. "Well, I guess that answers 'how do I look?'" he said cheerfully as he slipped the glasses into the breast pocket of his suit.

"Wow, Wash," Kaylee breathed. "You look _shi xing_ . . . you look Core."

Simon nodded, too, clearly impressed. "She's right. I'd never suspect you weren't from Londinium."

"Fancy tie," Jayne muttered. "Don't wanna know how much that cost us."

"Briefcase cost more," Mal stated off-handedly. His arms were crossed, and his face was still set in it's serious mode. Either he didn't like seeing Wash dressed in the Core get-up, or he was unhappy about the mission. Possibly both. "Anything you need?"

"Lots of good luck," Wash answered with a slight smile.

"Good luck," Mal immediately replied. He glanced to the rest of his crew.

Kaylee stepped forward. "You be careful, Wash." She moved close to hug him, and he embraced her tightly. She held on as though he wasn't going to come back. When they finally pulled apart, she had tears in her eyes that she tried to laugh off. "Don't mind me," she mused sheepishly. "Just ain't any easier even when when y'do get t'say g'bye."

Wash smiled at her and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm coming back, Kaylee. This is just goodbye for now, not for good." He patted her affectionately and gave her a firm but reassuring nod.

He looked to Jayne standing beside her, and his grin brightened a little. "Jayne," he noted with a slight incline of his head.

Jayne stuck his hand out for a handshake, but Wash just grinned more, maneuvered around it, and dragged Jayne down into a big bear hug. Jayne grunted and shifted to maintain his balance, eventually relenting to hug Wash back. The rest of the crew had to smile at the sight. "Y'don't go doin' nothing stupid," Jayne muttered as he pulled away. "It ain't right, you makin' little Kaylee cry."

Wash chuckled and nodded. "I'll be careful."

He turned then to Simon, who was looking a little sheepish witnessing Jayne's affection. He just smiled, shook his head, and stepped forward to hug Wash. "There are too many things I could thank you for," he said quietly as they embraced. "But we haven't got the time for all of them. Just know that I am thankful." He pulled back and put his hands into his pockets self-consciously. "This had better work," he added with a light smile.

Wash nodded. "It will. You did good." He patted Simon on the shoulder and gave him a nod. They had come along way together over the past few months.

His eyes eventually left Simon and traveled over to Zoe. He studied her for several seconds, taking in her expressionless face and rigidity. Unsure of what to do or how to touch her, he raised his hand as though to squeeze her arm. She tilted her head just a fraction, but it somehow softened her features. Her eyes closed and she whispered, "what the hell." Before he knew it, she was hugging him.

It was brief, but Wash's smile was practically leaping off his face when he pulled back. "Thanks," he finally breathed.

She crossed her arms again and inclined her head. "Good luck."

He studied her features for longer than he probably should have, but she let him, seemingly amused by his rapture. She shrugged, and he moved away to find Mal.

It was a little weird standing there before Mal with the rest of the crew beside them. There were things he ought to do, and wanted to do, that he wasn't sure he should. He'd hugged Jayne, though, and that meant they could hug. So, he stepped forward, and Mal hugged him. It was warm and welcoming and a significantly different hug than he'd given the rest of the crew. It was closer, and it lingered.

"You come back now, y'hear," Mal murmured into his ear.

"I will. I promise," Wash replied.

"Don't promise," Mal said. "Just do it."

Wash started to pull away and found Mal's eyes and studied them. They were dark but warm with a vulnerable fear he didn't recognize. "I'm going to come back," Wash stated emphatically.

The look wasn't chased from Mal's eyes. He just studied Wash more, trying to see through the fog to a clear future, but not even River could predict the way of things, not like that. "Wash," Mal began, mostly to stay him.

Wash didn't pull away, though he knew the whole crew was watching them to some degree. It didn't matter; he couldn't see them past the look in Mal's eyes. It was a look he realized for what it was: love. It was love and a deep fear of losing that love. "Mal," Wash answered a little more uncertainly. He wasn't prepared for confessionals; not here, not now.

Several seconds passed as they stared at one another, and then Mal pulled him close and kissed him. There wasn't a way he was not going to, not if not doing so might be something he'd regret for the rest of his life. The rest of the crew shuffled a bit, some uncomfortably, some just mindful.

It wasn't a long kiss, nor especially passionate, but it meant more than any of their other kisses had. Wash pressed his lips together when they parted, as though to seal it in. His eyes were still riveted on Mal's.

Kaylee laughed softly and drew their attention away from one another. "I should've gotten a capture vid," she mused playfully.

Wash stepped back, grinning again in a completely different, more self-satisfied way. He glanced once more at the rest of the crew. Simon had taken to looking away over the cargo bay to give them a semblance of privacy. Jayne was picking dirt from his nails and seemed to not have noticed.

Zoe's face had changed, and there was quite possibly the most open expression she'd had since he'd come back. It wasn't disgust or confusion, but there was perhaps a sort of realization of dawning comprehension there. He gave her a shy smile and then returned his gaze to Mal.

"We'll be monitoring you best we can," Mal stated, his tone serious and all business again. "When you finish, you just send up the contact and we'll be there to meet with you before you know it."

Wash nodded, stepped backwards toward the shuttle door, and slipped his sunglasses back on. "Will do." He looked at everyone again and smiled sadly. "Well, I'll be seeing you." His tone seemed almost sad and had a final ring to it. He gave a wave to the crew and stepped into the shuttle, sliding the door shut behind him.

For a time, the rest of the crew just stood there. Jayne shrugged and turned to go because there wasn't much point standing there just staring at the door. Kaylee and Simon left after hearing the shuttle power-up, and Mal found himself alone on the catwalk with Zoe.

Before them, the shuttle's unlocking mechanisms clanked as they disengaged, and the catwalk trembled slightly as Wash took off. Mal glanced to Zoe, and she met his gaze and held it. They stood there looking at each other for a while. Zoe's hardened shell was starting to crack.

Without contemplating it, he stepped close to her and took her hand in his. When she reassuringly squeezed his hand, he smiled.  
--

It had been well over a year since Wash had piloted one of _Serenity_'s shuttles, but he found that being behind the controls was easy. Everything simply came back to him. He was glad for this because most of his thoughts weren't related to flying, much less his mission.

His hand reached up to switch on the communication channel over his head. "You take care of her for me now, you hear?" He started into the air and kept his eyes on the planet looming beyond him.

"That's the plan," River replied with what sounded like a smile. "She'll be safe here, and when you come back, things will be different."

"Better different?" he questioned softly, using the hand not on the yoke to start flipping switches as the shuttle dropped to lower altitudes.

"Better," River agreed. There was a moment of hesitation, and then she said, "Coordinates for your landing have been transmitted."

"Thanks," he answered, "for everything." He pulled up on the yoke, applying the brakes. "I guess this is goodbye," he added.

"I'll see you when you get back," she answered pointedly.

Wash couldn't help smiling. "All right, then. You'd better get out of here. Best you guys break orbit and stay off radar as long as you can."

She was quiet for a few seconds, but the channel hummed with soft static, so Wash knew she hadn't signed off. At last she said, "You're not alone. You've never been alone."

The communication channel winked off, and Wash switched the speaker on his end closed. The way River read people was unsettling at best but also could be extremely comforting. His hands returned to the yoke, and he urged the shuttle down to the spiraling metropolis below him. Fear boiled in his belly, but on his face he wore a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Wash was heading for the capital of Londinium, a metropolis that glittered and sparkled in the morning sun like inverted icicles made of glass. It was common knowledge that the city was called Helios, but even if he hadn't known, the large hovering banners with changing displays welcoming him to the 'City of Helios: Home of Blue Sun,' greeted him several times over as he descended.

His communications channel pinged as he reached traffic altitude, and he had to actually pull up and wait for a break in the vehicle flow before he could merge into the skyway. The channel pinged again, and he glanced down and noticed a readout asking for his clearance codes.

He provided them, and the light on the dash blinked several seconds before turning a steady green. He smiled and drifted through the traffic, dropping to lower and lower lanes. He slowed down with the traffic and looked for the Blue Sun building. Driving on an over-crowded skyway like this was something he hadn't done in nearly ten years, but he knew how they went and what sort of attitude he ought to apply to the situation. He'd spent too much time in traffic jams in his youth to forget.

He'd grown up in a city not too dissimilar to Helios. It had been a smaller city, of course; far dirtier, but similar. In some ways that was comforting, but it was mostly unsettling.

Someone honked somewhere, a loud blaring sound jarring and echoing throughout the shuttle; he _had_ forgotten sounds like that after ten years in silent space. He checked his vectors; he wasn't off course, so the honking was probably directed at someone else. Still, his nerves were on edge, and he dropped a few more lanes until he was practically at street level traveling at a crawl.

In the distance he made out the distinctively tall building that was the headquarters of Blue Sun. The glass was tinted blue and radiated with intense light reflected from the sun. Wash was not an architect and he had an intense loathing for Blue Sun, but there was no denying the building was beautiful. It spiraled slowly like a glittering unicorn's horn and tapered to a fine point at the very top, where it was crowned by a silver tower that broadcasted the waves.

Unlike most of Blue Sun's products, there was no screen displaying advertisements on the building itself. Instead, it just had an old, traditional style stationary sign with "Blue Sun Corporation" and their Chinese logo. Their reach was so great that the logo was the only introduction they needed.

Wash piloted down another level, skimming now past other skyscrapers and buildings, until he reached the Blue Sun structure. He was directed towards parking, and, after being scanned and marked with a parking ticket to pay later, he was admitted through a gate. Small parking attendants in fancy navy blue uniforms directed him down aisles. He eventually parked the shuttle into a wide, berthed stall next to a Core shuttle that easily cost more than _Serenity_ and all her contents combined.

He turned the shuttle off, picked up his briefcase, and exited. He resisted ogling the expensive shuttle as he closed and locked the hatch. He opened the briefcase and studied its contents. Beneath his resume pad and official-looking work items was a small, clear plastic disc containing both the trigger break code and the overwrite to wipe out the rest of their messages.

He fingered it lightly and took a deep breath, slipping it into his breast pocket. Closing the briefcase, he started walking and pulled on his Core world persona. He held his head high, lifted his chin, and stared straight ahead. When he began to pass other pedestrians, he consciously paid them no mind: he was above them now. He was going to get a job here, and they were beneath him. His strides grew longer and more confident as he proceeded.

Deep inside, though, he realized just how yuppie they looked. When he caught sight of his reflection in the brilliant blue glass of the building, he knew he fit in perfectly. It was simultaneously disconcerting and reassuring. The forethought on his mind, though, was that not only had Zoe hugged him, she had done it even though he'd looked like this.

The double doors at the entrance loomed in front of him as he turned a corner. They were large and could easily accommodate ten large men walking abreast. He knew this was to expedite the morning-rush queue, but there were no lines at the moment. He took a deep breath and held it. Stepping forward, he removed his sunglasses and bent for the retinal scan.

The green scanner flashed for several seconds while it processed, and then it pinged a cleared code for him. A friendly female voice cheerfully intoned, "Welcome to Blue Sun, Mr. Tian!" The voice repeated again in Chinese. He let out his breath, relieved. Overhead, a large screen began to play a Blue Sun commercial. Wash largely ignored it despite its jaunty tune.

He suddenly smiled confidently, straightened his back, and strode through the great doors into the larger reception area. It seemed as though his fear melted away as he passed into the building. The ground floor had no interior walls. There were titanium steel pillars throughout the structure, maintaining its integrity, but for as far as his eye could see, the view was unobstructed. The building stretched on and on. The ceiling was at least six meters high.

He quickly identified the receptionist area – a huge, navy blue crescent-shaped desk. There were several employees with phone headsets clipped daintily to their ears. They all wore practiced smiles on their faces and bore remarkably bright white teeth. He approached an unengaged woman and nodded at her. "Good afternoon. My name is Tian Tuan Ti," he stated, pleased at the even timbre of his voice. "I have an appointment with Mr. Mao at 1520."

She nodded and turned to the display screen in front of her. It was a transparent monitor displaying various things in a bright, floating red text. She touched the space in the air near some of the words, and the display changed. "Oh, yes." Her eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. "Yes, I've got you right here," she said, looking up at him with a more sincere smile. "Please follow the navy stripe straight down to the elevators at the far wall. CEO Mao is on the top level. He's expecting you." Her hand rose and gestured to the floor. "I've keyed you in."

Wash looked down and discovered a dark stripe that ran from the receptionist desk along the corrugated steel floor. The stripe turned in several places, leading off to different destinations, but ultimately it led to the glass elevator shaft near the wall. "Thank you," he nodded and smiled back at her.

"You're welcome. Thank you for coming, and please enjoy your stay. Live life with Blue Sun," she called after him.

He reached the elevator and placed his palm on the readout. His fingerprints were scanned, and the door opened. He took a deep breath, looked around the ground floor of the complex, and stepped inside. There was only a simple display and a thumb pad, no buttons to press. He shifted his arm and put his briefcase in his other hand. Pressing his thumb to the plate, the elevator hummed and took off. The transparent walls allowed him watch the interior workings of the building as he rose level after level.

Behind him, he could see the city of Helios as it sprawled out beyond him. The elevator trembled slightly and paused as it reached a great height. Then, it shifted and began to travel horizontally. The building tapered near the top, and the elevator rocked accommodatingly.

Eventually Wash found himself in a carriage at the very top of the building overlooking much of the cityscape, as the Blue Sun building dwarfed most of the other skyscrapers.

He took another deep breath and turned around. The doors opened, and he stepped out. The room he found himself in was much smaller and decorated in cream and tan. The walls were expensive wood–paneled, and the floor was glossy polished oak. 

The atmosphere was also far softer and less industrial than the ground floor had been. There was another reception desk here, this one made of highly polished maple wood. Behind it sat a slim man in a black turtleneck. He had dark hair, a long, aquiline nose, and sharp eyes. His smile as Wash approached seemed bright and real. "Mr. Tian?" he asked pleasantly.

Wash nodded and approached the desk. "Yes," he answered in a smooth, cool voice.

Light, calming music played in the background. "CEO Mao is waiting for you," he noted charmingly. "He's very eager to speak with you." The receptionist picked up a small pad. "If I could just have you sign-in here?"

Wash pressed his thumb to the plate.

"Thank you," the man answered. He rose to his feet and gestured for Wash to follow him. "CEO Mao is behind these doors," he noted, opening them for Wash. "I'm Michael," he added and nodded. "Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Tian."

Wash gave a nod in thanks but paid the lackey little mind. He strode confidently through the double doors.

The room was an extremely large conference room. The cream and tan color theme carried over here, giving what might have otherwise been an intimidating room a warm, earthy feel to it. A long oak conference table filled most of the space with twelve matching chairs lining each side of it and two on each end. On the wall against the exterior was a massive window that overlooked the whole of Helios. The other side of the room had a small lounge with tan leather couches, a small oak bar, and several monitoring systems.

Wash took all of this in before he focused his eyes on the jovial man standing before him. CEO Mao was a rotund but happy man with a head of thick, black hair and a brilliant smile. He wore a fashionable suit similar to Wash's but slightly more mundane. "It's such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Tian," he said, reaching out to shake Wash's hand.

Wash nodded and eagerly returned the handshake. "It's an extreme pleasure to finally meet you as well, Mr. Mao." He gave an easy smile. "The things you've done here are incredible."

"Please, Tuan Ti, call me Yu."

"Thank you, Mr. Yu," he replied with a giving nod of his head. He seemed genuinely pleased with that permission. "I'm very eager to tour this facility. I've heard so many things about the Blue Sun Corporation. It's almost hard to believe I'm really here."

Yu picked up a data pad from the oak table and brought up Wash's resume. "Although there aren't any massive facilities like this where you've worked, I'm sure you'll find what we do to be just like what you're used to, only on a much larger scale."

Yu gestured to the bar. "Can I fix you a drink or give you a few minutes to get comfortable before we begin?"

Wash shook his head. "That isn't necessary," he said expertly. "I came prepared."

"Excellent!" Yu replied and nodded. "Then please, follow me."

He led Wash out another set of doors and away from the receptionist to another smaller elevator. Yu keyed in with his thumb, and the doors opened to admit them both. Yu studied Wash's resume on his datapad as the doors closed.

"So, you worked on the outpost on Orion?" Yu questioned, his eyes lifting from the readout on his pad to fix on Wash.

Wash nodded. "Yes. I spent six years there as the head of engineering. I handled a great deal of the brainwork for the Core, mostly classified." He nodded politely. "Which is why I've ended up here."

"It says at the bottom you graduated from the Orion Flight Academy as well?" he added with a smile. "I've a good friend whose son went there."

Wash brightened. "Yes, I've always loved flying. It's a great passion of mine. What year did your friend's son graduate?"

"'15, I believe." He looked Wash over. "Probably a great deal after you, I'm sure. He did prattle on about the place. They're quite renowned."

Pleased, Wash nodded. "A great many pilots came from Orion. Of course, I only attended as a luxury. Computers are my passion."

It was Yu's turn to nod. "Yes, so your resume states." He shifted slightly as the elevator went horizontal again, but he kept talking. "In just six weeks on Yavin, you managed to boost their export by nearly thirty percent? That's incredible."

Wash grinned despite himself. "Well, they had their routers crossed incorrectly. It was a simple mistake, but since Yavin has such a large base of operation, the mistake was repeated 16,000 times at each junction. All we had to do was unwire them, reconvert the power so it'd stop dragging on the mainframe, and retighten the feeds. A simple concept, but a large undertaking."

"Still, they had three specialists who came in before you, none of whom could even identify the problem!" Yu laughed and gazed up fondly at Wash.

"Well, some people have gifts, and some have learned skills." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Sometimes I can just feel it. Computers talk to me."

Yu nodded, apparently impressed. The was a brief lull over the conversation as the elevator passed the ground floor, sinking into the basement levels. Wash cleared his throat. "Do you know what the main form of entertainment on Yavin is?" he questioned conversationally.

Yu brightened. "Juggling goslings, I do believe?"

Wash guffawed. "Yes! Have you been there?"

Yu patted his stomach fondly. "Oh, yes, of course. I've visited all the major broadcast centers. Yavin goslings are delicious. Did you try any while you were there? Extremely delicate when braised properly."

Shaking his head, Wash's brow furrowed just a little. "No, I didn't get to, unfortunately. I did try juggling a few." He laughed softly. "Perhaps some of my damaged attempts ended up as your dinner?"

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. "Quite possible," Yu cheerfully said as he led Wash into the open. The room they found themselves in now was steel and concrete and full of large, churning machines. The whole air seemed to reverberate with energy. The walls were high with catwalks raising overhead. Yu led him down the hall to where the walls fell away.

Beyond them stretched the brain of the Cortex, a vast pit that sank into the ground. A cylinder of catwalks surrounded the large piston in the center. Electrical blue sparks danced along it sporadically, crackling with energy. Wash took out his sunglasses and put them on to view the dancing sparks.

A railing stretched around the edge of the chasm, and Wash leaned on it for a moment. "That must house a massive central Core. Of course, I'd seen pictures, but you never get the full scope . . ." He was in awe and shook his head, amazed. "If the brain is this size, where do you house the power generator?"

Yu grinned, very pleased with the question. "Below the chasm. Our operation is as tall as we are deep. Land is an extremely valuable commodity on this planet, as I'm sure you're keenly aware. We've made extremely good use of our resources."

"I'm suitably impressed," Wash noted, walking again. One side of the chasm had a small ledge that jutted out several meters. It had monitoring panels lined alongside it with several men manning them. "I left my last job because my boss wasn't able to make good judgment like this." His eyes narrowed slightly. "He didn't agree with the Alliance perhaps as much as he should have. The man had his heart in the right place, but his loyalties were faulty."

Yu's brow furrowed at this. "I'm sorry to hear that, Tuan Ti."

Wash shrugged it off. "It inspired me to set aside my aversion to crowds and come here. I want to work for the Alliance directly, and I see no better way than through Blue Sun."

Yu turned to him and patted his arm affectionately. "You really are everything your files said you would be." Gesturing forward, he said, "Well, I'm sure you're eager to get past all this hardware and onto your specialty. The mainframe is this way."

Wash paused as they passed the casing where the catwalk jutted out. A handful of technicians were carefully monitoring the output from the Core. There were several monitoring stations on different levels, but access to any one of them would serve Wash's purpose. Getting lost in the mainframe with Yu would do him no good. He pulled one of the technicians aside.

"What's your name?" Wash questioned.

The technician furrowed her brow, confused. Yu looked back, aware Wash had stopped following, and gave a curious expression. The girl, recognizing the CEO, finally answered. "Angeline," she said uncertainly. "Angeline Reyes."

Wash nodded. "How long have you worked here, Angeline?"

Yu settled, realizing Wash was simply testing one of his potential future subordinates. He crossed his arms and watched with a smirk.

"Five years, six months, sir," she answered and glanced around nervously. The other four technicians were trying hard not to pay attention to the conversation.

"Tell me, about the Cortex sub-routing system, Ms. Reyes--specifically about your junction crossings. Do you get anomalous readings every two weeks?"

She grinned brightly. "We used to, sir," she noted. "But a similar problem was detected on a sister operation. When the problem was identified and corrected, we had the circuitry rewired inside of a week."

Wash nodded, pleased. "And your efficiency increased?"

"Nearly thirty percent," she agreed.

Wash nodded and patted the girl on the back. He then moved to the railing and looked down the shaft. After several seconds of contemplation, he asked in an even tone, "Tell me, do you get suicides here?"

Angeline seemed even more confused. Her eyes darted to Yu, but it was clear Wash was talking to her. "Not that I'm aware of, sir."

Wash grinned, his expression lightening. "But I hear people are just _dying_ to get in here." He laughed; after a few seconds, both Angeline and Yu began laughing, too.

"Must be the folks on the graveyard shift," Angeline noted and giggled more.

Wash hadn't expected her to join in, so the comment was even funnier than it might otherwise have been. He turned and leaned over the railing. "Well, if you dropped, you'd certainly be more than six feet under!" he cheered and laughed.

Yu and Angeline agreed with more laughter but stopped when Wash's sunglasses slipped off his nose, hit the railing, and bounce out into the shaft. They fell out of sight within seconds. "Your glasses!" Angeline cried.

Wash sobered a little. "Eh, don't worry. I have another pair at home."

"But nothing should go down there!" she cried. "They could short out the system if they hit anything fragile."

Yu straightened. "I'll have maintenance clean it up at once." He turned and grabbed another technician, pulling him aside and explaining the situation in a whisper. The technician's eyes widened. Angeline smiled nervously as Yu told her to go with the man as a witness to the incident. Now, only three men operated the observation deck. Wash grinned; his task seemed to be getting easier and easier.

"That should take care of the problem," Yu stated, turning back to Wash. "As I was saying, the mainframe is this way." As he gestured, the facility trembled with an explosion deep down in the shaft.

The three remaining technicians all exchanged frightened looks. They scrambled and began a lockdown procedure, uncertain as to what had just happened. Yu looked agitatedly at Wash, his expression changing from amiable peace to anger in an instant. "That was an explosion!" His eyes widened as he realized what that could entail, and then he focused them accusingly on Wash. "You've really done it now," he snarled. "If there's extensive damage from those glasses, I could lose my job!" he cried.

Wash had a hard time not smiling. "It was an accident," he noted plainly. "Besides, I know how that Core works. A pair of sunglasses couldn't damage the system like that, not even if they hit the most sensitive piece of equipment." 

"Well, something happened down there!" Yu shouted.  
The technicians were working quickly. Wash wanted to push between them and add his broadcast to the system, but he couldn't with Yu standing there. He was growing anxious. "What are the evacuation procedures?" he questioned next, hoping he might get the man to leave. He needed to access the Core, and if Yu didn't leave, he might have to start a fight. Being unarmed wasn't going to be advantageous, and Yu had about a hundred pounds on him. Wash felt he could potentially push the man over if he planned correctly, but then he'd have three other technicians to deal with. "It could be an attack!" he exclaimed, hoping to scare them off.

"An attack?" Yu countered. "From _whom_? We're at peace!" he frowned. Despite his apparent agitation, he wasn't leaving.

Wash clenched and unclenched his open fist. He didn't want to wrestle Yu, but he was getting impatient. If the technicians locked down the terminal before he could get to it, he wasn't sure he could override it. He set his briefcase down and took a deep breath. He wasn't a fighter, and doing this might prevent escaping the facility to his rendezvous, but he was willing to take the risk if it meant he could complete the mission.

Just as he raised his arm to strike, the alarms sounded overhead. Yu's eyes widened at the sound as he looked around fearfully. "Those are the evacuation alarms!" he cried. He focused his gaze back on to Wash, but now he seemed to think Wash had been telling the truth about the attack. "This is not good!" he shouted. He stalked off toward one of the elevators, shaking his head and muttering in Chinese. "I've got to evacuate the entire building," he wailed and got into the elevator. "I'm going to have words with you later, Mr. Tian!" he shouted before the doors closed around him.

"Go, go!" Wash urged the technicians as soon as Yu was out of sight. "Evacuation alarm, get out of here! This whole place might shut down! Who knows what happened?" The technicians seemed reluctant to leave their posts, but Wash looked official in his suit and conversation with Yu, so they eventually complied.

Wash finally found himself alone in the center of the Blue Sun Core. The alarms were annoying, but he was so close to finishing the job that he could taste it. He'd just plug in the rod, transmit the code, and evacuate with everyone else. Kaylee's exploding sunglasses had mocked up beautifully and passed all the inspections perfectly. The plan was going exceedingly well.

He raced to the Core terminal and found the clear cover housing over the slot for his disc. It was locked. He cursed and looked at the monitor, which was flashing "LOCKDOWN IN PROGRESS." He cursed and banged his fist on the console. It beeped at him blearily.

He stood there staring down at the screen for several moments. He had come all this way and failed. Then, it occurred to him that the system that triggered the alarms was the very one in front of him. The program that sent out the lockdown override was issued from his terminal or one very near it.

Laughing unexpectedly, he started typing on the keyboard again, imputing manual override codes. There were few commands he remembered from his younger days as a Cortex surfer, but the system was user–friendly. In just a few minutes time, he had the Core accessed. He imputed a few more codes and executed them.

Seconds later, the alarms shut off. He grinned; he could do this after all. With the alarms off, it was easier to concentrate on unlocking the rest of the Core. It failed, and he cursed again. Instead, he tried unlocking only the terminal he was using. When the locks popped off on the cover, he felt his heart leap into his throat.

His hand trembled as he reached out to open the plastic cover. It yielded easily and slipped into the console. He fumbled in his breast pocket for the disc and brought it out. He studied it for a second and then, nodding to himself, pressed it into the slot to load and execute the program.

It took several seconds to download.

The file blinked six times and flashed "transfer complete" on the screen. Immediately following that, the trigger break began to play. The room filled with the noise of it. Though it was a cacophony of static and unidentifiable sounds, it was music to Wash's ears. He couldn't let it distract him long; his task was only half complete.

With the programs unlocked, it was easy to gain access to the main Core from the terminal. He overrode the lockdown completely and directly entered the Core. He found the commercial database where the subliminal messages were stored and quickly started overriding all the files with the trigger. He wasn't a hacker by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew what he was doing in the most basic of senses. More importantly, he knew more or less where to install the overrides.

There were going to be pockets of networks unaffected by the overrides, but there was nothing he could do about that. He trusted that once he got the signal out, people would realize that not only had they forgotten about Miranda, they had been subliminally controlled. Hopefully, they would keep the signal going on their own. He tried not to worry about his less than thorough job.

When he'd done all he felt he safely could, he rested his hand on the keyboard and let out a deep sigh of relief. He suspected Mal had felt this way after the original broadcast on Miranda. An immense weight had lifted off his shoulders. He felt light and warm and there was a tight, burning sensation in his stomach that was intoxicating.

He rocked back onto his heels with eyes closed and a lazy smile. He'd done good. He'd come back from death and done the impossible. With the help of his family of friends, he'd toppled the Alliance that toppled them. They'd won this time; he was sure of it. His heart, artificial though it now was, told him they'd succeeded.

He wasn't surprised to hear the tromp of combat boots approaching quickly behind him as the power safeties of artillery weapons switched off. He shook his head and sighed at the inevitable. He cleared his mind, enjoying the moment of success for what it was. It looked like he wasn't going to be able to keep his promises after all, despite being told not to make them.

"Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly," a voice commanded.

Wash did as instructed, raising his hands slowly off the console. When he turned around, he found nearly ten armored federal agents staring him down. All of them had their weapons drawn and targeted on him. It was frightening, but he had to smile at the show of force against one little, unarmed man. A brilliant light was shone onto his face, and he blinked ruddily as he tilted his head down; he didn't dare lower his hands.

The same officer called out, "Hoban Washburn, by the authority of the Union of Allied Planets, you are now bound by law."


	13. Chapter 13

Wash was unceremoniously handcuffed and searched. When it was determined he was unarmed and not dangerous, he was ordered to processing. The last thing he saw before he was escorted away by four armed guards was one man pulling the trigger disc out of the console and smashing it to pieces on the floor.

He closed his eyes and silently prayed it had broadcasted long enough to get the message out.

His will was stronger now than the first time he'd been held by Blue Sun, but as he was forced down into an interrogation chair and injected with a sedative, he quickly remembered how exhausting the processing could be. He knew being stronger now meant they could break him harder.

They also now knew he had information they wanted.

Londinium was no backwater planet. Being in the basement of the Blue Sun Corporation meant there was no limit to how they could extract the information they wanted. He closed his eyes as the sedative needle slipped out of his arm, focuseing hard on the image of Mal and Zoe in his mind.

He didn't regret what he'd done, nor did he regret risking his life for the mission. He only hoped that Mal wouldn't get himself and the crew caught and killed trying to find out what happened to him.

As the sedative began to take effect, he clutched his hands into fists. He prayed he could get through this interrogation without compromising the safety of the crew. His breathing drew slowly as his senses dulled. His hands loosened as the fight ebbed out of him. The sound of the steel doors sliding open made him flinch, but he kept his eyes tightly closed and forced himself to picture Mal and Zoe laughing together.

Footsteps approached his chair and came to a halt. There was a period of silence as the new arrival waited for Wash to open his eyes. When he didn't, the man cleared his throat. "Number 1020," he mused as though reading something. "Hoban Washburne." 

Pages began to turn, rustling softly in the quiet room. "Husband to one Zoe Alleyne, first mate of _Serenity,_ and pilot for Malcolm Reynolds, captain of _Serenity_, both former volunteers for the Independents. You associate with a most questionable crowd."

Wash's eyes flickered open, and he took in the man before him. He was in his late forties with peppered grey-blond hair and a small, pug-like nose. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but he was smiling. Wash kept his eyes off the man's face; his hands were far more important, holding a small paper tablet with the information he was quoting.

The man wore a nondescript dark suit with a white dress shirt beneath it. He seemed like any number of interrogators Wash had seen before, except this man wore what appeared to be blue latex gloves on his hands.  
--

That night he was thrown into a high security prison cell. There were no Alliance guards, just strategically positioned observation robots. Mechanical locks shut the thick steel door to his room as soon as he was thrown inside. If he had neighbors in the cells beside him, he had no way of finding out; the walls were thick and soundproof.

The room was dark and spartan, lit dimly by two unwavering overhead lights. He had a slab for a bed and a toilet-sink combo, nothing else. His head pounded from the interrogation and the sedative, but he struggled to remain awake. He knew if he fell asleep, he'd be weaker when he awoke; he had to endure the pain for now and sleep only when it subsided. After a few hours, a mechanical arm lowered food to him from a mechanism in the ceiling, setting a tray of protein gruel on the floor. He ignored it.

He had somehow resisted the questioning. It was clear they knew he had information they wanted, but it was also clear they didn't mind killing him before they retrieved it. He wondered if they'd just bring him back to life again if he died.

The questions had been focused: "How did you find River Tam?" "What did she tell you about the subliminal messages?" Wash wondered if they realized he probably knew more about all of that than she did. "What else did she tell you about Miranda?" The questions went on, broaching topics that he didn't even know.

Never once did they ask, "where is River Tam now?"

Dragging his exhausted body onto the steel slab bed, he stretched out and stared at the ceiling. It was hard to believe he was back in a place like this, even if this room was steel and gray unlike his other cell. He still wore his fancy Core suit instead of some prison-issued uniform, but he doubted they'd keep him out of one for long.

He knew they were going to break him or kill him trying. He could only hope he died before he let the secrets slip.

Sleep found him there on the bench, filling his mind with dreams of Reavers and the screaming moan of _Serenity_ crashing.  
--

He was pulled out of bed a scant two hours later and strapped back into the chair. He was used to this procedure by now. The questions were largely the same, but the methods of extracting the information changed. With the sedative pumped into his veins again, he was unable to resist or fight back as they inflicted pain upon him.

The man with the blue gloves returned, this time with a silent partner. The first man never introduced him; he only spoke of River and Blue Sun and Miranda. The man was pleasant, but his outward kindness belied the evil inside him. He would tell Wash things would be all right in one breath, while in the next he'd hold out a thin silver rod that, when activated, sent a burning jolt through Wash's spine.

By the end of the session, Wash's nose was dripping blood onto his slate grey suit. His eyes ached as though he'd left them open during a sand storm, and his body felt raggedy and heavy. Never once was he physically touched, but he felt he had been flogged and beaten.

The man with the blue hands smiled serenely and reassured Wash he would break eventually, if not in two.

Wash passed out as soon as he got to his cell, even though he wanted to stay awake and fight off the pain. He was stronger than before, but he still wasn't strong enough. He knew as well as they did it wouldn't be long.  
--

He awoke feeling better although not refreshed. New food had been lowered into his room while he slept, though he had no idea how long ago it had arrived or even how long he had been sleeping. The food, which might have once been hot, was cold to the touch now. He ate it anyway.

Time passed, and no one came for him. He felt like he'd slept for several hours but thought it must have only seemed that way. He expected to be picked up for interrogation again soon. Their early regimen, he remembered, was to give him just enough rest to carry on but not enough to be rested. That had seemed the tactic when he'd been questioned the second time, only hours after the first. The Alliance men were skilled at waking him out of a deep sleep just to hound him with more unanswerable questions. It properly upset his sleep cycle and made him more prone to reveal truths he'd otherwise keep quiet.

Time was hard to measure in the cell, but he paced and counted in his head to know that hours had passed. They didn't call upon him again, and it unsettled him.

Food was lowered again some time later, still warm when it arrived. Wash took it and sat on the slab to eat. He pondered why he hadn't been extracted again. He had told them nothing of relevance during his interrogation, and he had gotten the distinct impression they would be questioning him again soon and repeatedly.

He hadn't expected to get more than an hour or two of sleep before the next interrogation, yet he had been up nearly eight hours without any sign from anyone, save the food drop. The worst of the pain had faded, leaving only a hollow, numb sensation at the base of his skull. It seemed strange they would allow such a lapse.

He found it worrisome.  
--

He didn't know the exact moment _Serenity_'s clearance codes on Londinium expired, but after sleeping another eight hours or so and eating again, Wash figured the time was long since up. That meant either _Serenity_ had been forced to leave Londinium without him, or they stayed and risked being arrested. He hoped they had left him, although deep in his heart he figured they wouldn't.

It frightened him to think Mal might risk himself and the crew to rescue him, but it also gave him a warm glow deep in his stomach. He only hoped that the rescue attempt succeeded and that the crew wasn't captured themselves.

In the down time, he determined the intervals between meals were approximately four hours. Based on that, he more or less calculated how much time had passed. The math did little to appease the agitation growing in him. Why hadn't Mal come for him? Why hadn't the Blue Sun men questioned him more? He tried various scenarios in his mind, but only one seemed to fit:

River had been captured.

There was no way to confirm or deny this; he had no one to ask. There was no way he could even really guess; it was the only thing that made sense and answered all his questions. His gut didn't tell him it was true, but it was logical. And if they were captured, then he had to escape and rescue _them_.

He took stock of what he had in his possession. As they had never strip-searched him or put him in a prison uniform, he still had almost everything he had entered the complex with. He had long since shed his coat and tie, but he had them both on his bed, his jacket folded up to serve as a pillow. In addition, he had his shoes, socks, underwear, pants, dress shirt and tank top. Dress aside, he had a small pair of cufflinks and nothing else. His briefcase and everything else of use had been confiscated, and, of course, his sunglasses had been destroyed in the explosion.

He pawed through his clothes absently, having removed all of them but his pants and the tank top. He sat cross-legged on the slab and fondled the tie. It was silky smooth and cool to the touch. It had stopped broadcasting commercials some time ago, likely due to depth of the facility, but the computer chip inside it was the best bet he had.

Using the t-bar on the cufflinks, he managed to rip through the fabric that stitched the tie together and carefully laid it out to investigate its inner workings. The technology was microscopic, and even if he could have seen the circuitry, he had nothing remotely small enough to use as a tool. Still, he fiddled with it, as there was little else he could do to occupy his time. Eventually he managed to make it switch on and off, although the most it did was display a "Searching for Signal" error.

If prisoners could escape prisons just by rewiring their neckties, he knew they'd be breaking out all the time. He fiddled with the tie for several hours but eventually gave up. There was nothing he could do with it. Even if he'd had all the tools and parts he could ever want, there was little hope that he could use it to break out of the cell.

He sat and put it back together, and then he paced. He exercised, and he waited. He sang songs softly and at the top of his lungs. He recounted stories and jokes, and he sat for hours in silence. He laughed at the absurdity of his situation, and he prayed for the success of his mission.

He never cried.  
--

On the fourth day, a service robot entered his cell through a drop-down hatch in the ceiling. She was a cleaning model, just a torso and arms connected to a long shaft that lowered from the ceiling to dangle her above the floor. She was silver and more machine than person, but she had a human-esque face and arms.

She seemed genuinely surprised to find him in the room though his attempts to speak to her went unanswered. She simply gave him a short apology for interrupting and began to clean the toilet and the sink. Wash sat on the bed and watched her, curiously studying the shaft that led from her body into the ceiling. There was probably a maintenance duct overhead that she traveled along from room to room. He wondered if it was possible to access it from inside his cell.

She finished with the toilet and began to polish the burnished steel floor. He crossed his legs and pondered how he could overpower the robot. Even if he couldn't get up the shaft into the maintenance duct, an attack would probably alert security. He wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to be remembered, but he supposed if he weren't getting dragged out of his cell on the occasion, he'd have no chance to learn the lay of the land. That would hinder him greatly if he later managed to escape.

Picking up the tie, he snapped it once between his hands, preparing to wrap it around the robot. At least that would give him an anchor to hold on to as she ascended back into the shaft. He waited until she straightened before getting to his feet. Wrapping the end of the tie around his fists for stability, he lunged forward and roped the tie around the robot.

She jerked up immediately and swiveled around to look at Wash. "You are not authorized to do that," she announced in a smooth, melodic female voice.

Instead of sounding an alarm or disappearing up into the ceiling with Wash still attached, she simply used her mechanical arms to pull him off. Wash wasn't strong enough to resist the force of a robot, and before he knew it, she had deposited him back on his bed, scattering his clothes. "Please refrain."

She swiveled back around, took assessment of the room, and nodded. When she did, the maintenance doors overhead opened, and she disappeared through them.

Wash cursed softly and stared up at the panel where she had gone. There was no way he could reach it. The ceiling was at least three meters high, and he had nothing to stand on. Even on the bed, he couldn't get anywhere near the ceiling door, which was in the center of the room. Dejected, Wash sat down.

Torture was bad enough, but at least then he knew he was keeping important information from Blue Sun. Having been forgotten was worse; it felt like the information he knew was useless now. It frightened him. When he thought about River and the rest of the crew possibly having to endure any of the interrogations he'd gone through, it made his vision start to blur. He didn't understand the situation. If they had River, why wouldn't they just kill him? If they didn't want the information he had, why would they keep him alive?

Fear and anger welled within him and propelled him to his feet.

"Let me out of here!" he screamed suddenly. He ran to the thick steel doors and banged on them. "Take me!" he screamed. "Just leave them alone!"

His fists made low, deep sounding thuds on the doors. He continued banging for over an hour until his hands throbbed in pain. He sank to his knees on the floor and rested his brow against the cool steel. He forced himself not to cry, because crying meant he gave up. He was determined to never give up.

When the ceiling hatch opened again moments later to deliver his food, he lashed out at it with his feet. He kicked the tray, knocking over the bowl and spilling food everywhere. Screaming again, he got to his feet, snatched up the tray, and began pounding on the door with it. 

The tinny sound carried a little further, but still no one came.  
--

The fifth day, the cleaning robot did not return, and no breakfast came. The spilled food from the day before remained where Wash had kicked it. He sat curled against the steel door, the tray clutched to his chest. He had fallen asleep there and found no reason to get up.

Eventually, nature demanded it, and he crossed to the toilet to relieve himself. He stroked his chin and frowned at the stubble. In the past, not shaving hadn't offended him, not even during his previous Alliance capture, but now it did. He had never been fastidious about shaving, but the growth on his chin was just another sign he'd been in the room well over _Serenity_'s twenty-four hour grace period. He didn't want the crew to come for him, but he was crushed all the same that they hadn't.

He eventually cleaned up the food mess with his dress shirt. He scooped up the bits of food and flung them into the toilet. When he flushed, he watched the water swirl away with a curious tilt of his head. Then, he pushed the shirt into the sink and washed it as best he could without soap.

When that was done, he stripped and washed the rest of his clothes, which had begun to smell a little ripe. He tried to clean himself as well but had little success with ice-cold water and no means to dry himself. His hair dye stained the sink brown and left dark streaks as it ran down his face. After that, he stopped bothering.

When he was done, he sat on the bed completely undressed while waiting for his clothes to dry. He absently scanned the ceiling and walls for cameras but didn't much care if they saw him. He pulled the reassembled tie on, draping it to cover as much of his purpled scar as possible, and sat with his back to the wall.

Lunch never arrived, and his clothes dripped messy, slippery puddles onto the steel floor. He got up only to use the bathroom and pull on his underwear once dry. After that, he tried not to think of his hunger.

He didn't want to starve to death.

By the time his supper should have arrived, his clothes had finished drying. Need a semblance of civilization, he put the entire suit back on right down to the cufflinks. It itched and felt tighter; he was aware, too late, that the expensive suit was dryclean only. He laughed a little at the thought. He was glad to know he could still find things funny.

"I sure hope you guys aren't next door," he muttered to himself before he slumped back against the wall.

Sleep didn't come to him for a long time that night. When it finally did, he had unpleasant dreams of Mal and River being tortured side-by-side while Zoe just stood back and watched.  
--

On the sixth day, he awoke from the dreams sweaty and unsettled. He pulled off the coat and balled it against the bed to pace. His neck hurt from sleeping on it wrong, and he felt filthy. He desperately wanted to shower. He wondered if this was the Alliance's ploy to break him: leave him alone without any knowledge of what had happened to the crew or the message he'd risked their lives to get out.

It if was, it was working.

His hunger was starting to affect him, too, and he wondered how long they'd let him go before feeding him again. He knew they must, eventually. He concluded that if they had River and had gotten the information from her, then they wouldn't need him. They had made no secret of their desire to kill him his first day. Since he was still alive, that gave him reason to believe either she was resisting or maybe, against all odds, they didn't have her.

Either way, the Alliance had to feed him eventually if they wanted him alive enough to tell his secrets. Breaking his spirit with no socialization and no food seemed like a very apt method of torture, but considerably slow for Blue Sun's taste. He hoped that just meant the message had gotten out and they were busy elsewhere dealing with fallout repercussions.

He wanted to know, one way or the other. He figured the only way to find out meant escaping his cell.

Wash picked up the tray and started banging on the door with it again. "Hey!" he shouted. "Hey, you want your answers?" he added. "I got answers. I got all sorts of answers about Miranda and Blue Sun and River Tam!"

He had no intention of delving those secrets, but he had to do something. If anyone was listening, though, they didn't reply.

That night, after nearly two days without food, he drank water until he felt full. He spent the next few hours waking up off and on to relieve himself. He slept on the floor with his coat pulled around him like a blanket, and when he awoke, he threw up clear liquid into the toilet bowl.

He fell asleep again leaning against the wall beside the toilet. It wasn't until the whirring noise of food delivery sounded that he awoke fully. He stared at the arm as it set the tray on the floor and retreated back to the ceiling hatch. He looked at the gruel and protein. He wondered for a bit if he was dreaming, but it didn't make sense that his dream food was protein gruel.

He eventually gathered enough strength to push off the floor and crawl toward the food. It was real. It was bland and tasteless, but he licked the bowl clean. Satiated, he sprawled out on the floor in a way he never had before when he'd been a reanimated corpse in the other facility.

He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, squinting into the steel, trying to see the stars somewhere beyond millions of pounds of steel and concrete. His body recovered slowly as it broke down the food, and he sighed as the hunger pangs ebbed. He remained on his back for hours until the lights blinked off.  
--

His brow furrowed at the sudden darkness. He had been here for several days now and the lights had never once even flickered or dimmed. For them to wink out completely wasn't an entirely comforting notion. Wash sat up and looked around, trying to make out any features in his cell. There were no windows, and no light came in beneath the steel door to the outside world.

He knew the bed was to his left, barely an arm's reach away, and that to his right was the toilet and sink, but he could make out neither. The darkness was so absolute that he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

Swallowing down the panic that suddenly tried to claw its way out of his throat, he got to his feet. He felt around until he found the bed and sat on it. He kept his arms and legs close to him and tried to push away the thoughts of what was possibly happening to him. He didn't want to speculate.

He wished he had a flashlight or something; it suddenly occurred to him that gas might be silently pumping into the room. Not that he could do anything if it was.

He rubbed his neck self-consciously and looked around helplessly. His eyes were straining, trying to see through the dark. His ears were alert, too, listening for any sound out of place. His fingers wrapped around the tie hanging from his neck.

He pulled it off, flipped it over, and switched it on. It powered up and displayed its steady "Searching for Signal" screen. It was a dull, dim light but enough to see by. He held the tie up and moved about the cell. He determined there was nothing entering his room, and that at least assuaged his irrational fears. Being able to see, no matter how feebly, settled him greatly.

Stepping to the steel door, he put his ear to it and listened. He couldn't make out anything on the other side. Whenever he thought he heard something, he quickly realized it was just the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

Then, after about ten minutes, he definitely heard something and felt a tremor. If there hadn't been a sound associated with it, he would have assumed there had been an earthquake. This was Londinium, where such things were controlled, and it had sounded like a detonation.

The lights were still out, but the noises increased. They were low and booming and echoed through the metal in a way that his tray banging hadn't. Realizing suddenly what they were, he backed up from the door and pressed himself against the far wall.

In the darkness he couldn't see the door. His tie illuminated only a few feet in front of him, so he didn't see it the door explode in front of him. He tightly closed his eyes as he heard the blast. Debris rained down as a fresh gale of cold air rushed around him. He coughed at the dust but opened his eyes to light.

He was met by Mal's serious grin, illuminated by the flashlight shining into the cell. Jayne stood beside Mal, peering in. In his hand he had a huge gun that was leveled at the ground. Behind them, he saw Zoe, her face in profile as she stared down the hall. Her rifle was leveled at her hips, clearly playing guard to them.

"You all right?" Mal asked as he stepped through the blasted hole into the cell. He went to Wash and grabbed his arm securely. His eyes were deep with concern.

Wash laughed. The relief that flooded off him was almost tangible. He was safe, and they were safe. "_Ni bai chi_!" he cried and launched off the wall to hug Mal tightly. "I can't believe you're here! What were you thinking?"

Mal laughed, returned the hug briefly, and quickly ushered him out of the cell. "Thought we was rescuing you."

"Yeah. Why'd y'have t'go'n'do somethin' so stupid as gettin' caught by the 'Lliance?" Jayne grunted. He smiled faintly at Wash, and it was easy to see he was rather invigorated by the attack plan.

"It wasn't on my agenda," Wash admitted and looked around the darkened corridors. Only Mal's flashlight and Jayne's gun sights illuminated the hall. "We must be fifty floors down. How did you get here?"

Mal grinned. "Seventy-two," he corrected with a nod. "You can thank Kaylee for the schematics when we get back; this was all her plotting."

Beyond them, they heard angry voices and footfalls. "We got company incoming, sir," Zoe noted, glancing over her shoulder at them for the first time. Her eyes found Wash. She looked him over quickly and smiled fleetingly.

"Figured we might," Mal agreed resignedly, looking back down the hall. "Well, no time to waste. Wash?" He looked back to him. "You up to a bit of running?"

Wash laughed, despite the inappropriateness of the sound at the moment. It was hard to believe this was actually happening. The Blue Sun didn't have Mal. They didn't even seem to have River or any of the crew. Somehow, against all odds, Mal had infiltrated to the basement levels of the Blue Sun Corporation and broken him out of jail.

"I'm up for it. You know another way out of this place?" he asked.

Jayne took off leading, raising his gun to bear. An observation robot was blown out in front of them, and Wash paid it little mind as they ran past.

"Got a plan," Mal noted and patted a small satchel he had on his hip, tucked under his brown coat. "May be better than a way."

Jayne grunted and looked over his shoulder at Mal. "Yeah, 'cept the damn _hundan_ is gonna drown hisself."

"Less talkin', more running," Zoe noted tersely. She brought up the rear, running almost entirely backwards as she covered them from behind.

Mal pulled out a small pad, consulted it, and pointed down a hall. "This way." The four of them turned and took off down another nearly identical hallway. In the dimly lit corridors, they almost ran past the elevator shaft.

"Here, sir," Zoe called. Her words drew them up.

Mal looked back at her and then consulted his pad. Realizing she was right, he hit the door. Wash didn't expect the shaft to respond with the facility's power down, but it didn't take long for the elevator doors to open with a soft ping.

"We're just gonna ride out of here?" Wash asked incredulously as the four of them piled quickly into the elevator. Jayne leaned out, twisted the top on one of his smoke bombs, and hurled it down the hallway. 

Mal was busy inserting the data pad into a thin slot at the bottom of the thumb scan by the time Jayne rejoined thme. "'Ride' ain't exactly th'word I'd use."

Zoe and Jayne exchanged glances but neither said anything.

The scanner let out a soft beep, and the doors finally closed in front of them. Mal pressed a button on the pad, and the elevator shifted. Looking up, Wash noticed the numbers starting to change. "We're going _down_?"

Mal didn't say anything at first; he just reached his hand out and squeezed Wash's. "We had t'get a little creative." His impish grin was all Wash had to see to know the difficult part was yet to come.


	14. Chapter 14

"If we'd known you weren't going to be hurt, we could've left Jayne behind," Mal noted rather teasingly as the elevator descended. His eyes were serious though. "Figured we'd have to carry you out of here."

Wash glanced to Jayne. "I'm a little perplexed myself," he admitted. "They, uh, they interrogated me the first day, but then they stopped." He looked concerned for a few moments. "I figured they'd caught you guys and maybe didn't need me anymore."

Mal offered up an easy, toothy grin. "Only took a couple hours for the message to get out," he explained. "The initial transmission was cut off almost immediately, but it resurfaced on secondary channels a few hours later. Figure the Alliance had their hands a bit too full to be fixatin' on you much."

Zoe nodded. "Knew you was in trouble real fast, though."

Mal nodded in agreement. "They tried to play th'whole gorram thing off as a hoax. Said someone infiltrated Blue Sun and set off a few explosions, but he'd been captured and the situation contained. They were quick to say you were a terrorist. We figured out quick that meant they had you."

The elevator doors opened onto darkness. Mal and Jayne both shone their flashlights out. The light illuminated thick concrete walls and floors, a great deal of large pipes, and little else. The ceiling was almost low enough to make Jayne stoop as they exited. "This way," Zoe commanded and gestured with her gun.

"One of these days ya'll're gonna have t'risk you're own necks t'break _me_ outta a gorram fortress," Jayne muttered as he raised his gun and took the lead again. "Gettin' tired always bein' th'one goin' in on these suicide missions."

"Seem to remember quite clearly bustin' you out of St. Lucy's on Ariel ," Mal noted without a kind hitch to his voice.

"Yeah, well, that were different," Jayne muttered. "I ain't never got caught when it mattered," he noted plainly.

Mal glanced over his shoulder at Zoe and Wash but they both just shrugged. "Now ain't exactly th'time for this," Mal cut him off.

"Yeah," Wash agreed. "How the hell'd you break into Londinium airspace again? You only had a twenty-four hour clearance."

They came to a halt by a door, and Jayne ushered them back so he could shoot the lock off. Mal looked at Wash and grinned. "Let's just say we ain't gonna be eatin' too high on the hog for a while."

Jayne kicked the door open and shone his light into what looked like a huge pump room. A foul stench wafted out at them, and he scowled. Looking back over his shoulder at Wash he said, in an unhappy voice, "Sold th'mule."

That made Wash's eyebrows shoot up. "The mule? But we bought that with the Lassiter funds! Clearance codes wouldn't cost that much!"

"Zoe?" Mal called, inclining his head toward her as he pushed past Wash into the pump room.

Zoe unclipped something from her belt and handed it to Wash. "Best put this on."

Looking down at what he'd been given didn't help Wash figure things out. It was dark, and he couldn't see what he was now holding. He followed Zoe, Mal, and Jayne into the pump room but kept his eyes on the object in his hands. As he approached the men with the flashlights, he turned the apparatus over and over until he figured out what it was: a breath mask with attached air filter and goggles.

He boggled a moment longer at the item in his hands. Looking up, he realized Mal and Jayne had already pulled similar contraptions over their heads. "Wait, what?" he questioned, confused. "You sold the mule to buy tankless _breath masks_?"

"And immediate clearance codes," Mal agreed with a nod. "And I thought that damn briefcase was expensive."

Jayne swung his gun over his shoulder and bent to twist open a port hatch that ran into a large pipe. He grunted as he strained, but the wheel turned slowly. When he got it opened, the room flooded with an even thicker stench. "We're gonna need 'em," he grumbled.

"Oh, God," Wash cried. "We're going through the _sewer_?"

"Yup! Hope you didn't eat too recently," Mal replied cheerfully. He set his flashlight down and pulled out several thin plastic bags, which he then put his weapons in. He handed extra bags to Jayne and Zoe. "We ought to be vanished out o'here 'fore they even realize we're missin'."

"Think they know we're missing already," Wash noted. He pulled the breath mask over his head and adjusted the goggles. "Sewer-sloshing is pretty extreme. You guys must really like me," he noted with a nervous little smile.

Zoe approached him and tied a heavy-duty belt around his waist, cinching it tightly. "You catch on fast," she agreed. While Wash stared at her in surprise, she clipped a thick nylon rope to the metal hook on his belt and pulled it taut. It attached to a similar belt around her waist. She crossed to Mal and hooked him to the apparatus, too.

Jayne finished packing his guns into the waterproofed bag and lifted his arms so Zoe could attach him to the cord. He grunted around the breath mask. "Still think this plan is pretty stupid."

"We ain't ever paid you for your thinkin', Jayne," Mal flatly replied as he finished adjusting his belt and guns.

"Well, I ain't gettin' paid for this one," Jayne groused. He was shining his flashlight down into the hatch he had just opened. "Figure I can say what I want."

"You come up with a better plan, Jayne, we'll do it." Mal tugged his belt and crossed to check Wash's. "'Til then, you shut up and do as I say."

Cutting in, Wash asked, "Do we know where this ends up?" He was feeling a little nervous about jumping down a dark hatch into a sewer.

"Waste treatment plant," Mal replied, the cheer returning to him.

"Um, maybe these things work differently where I'm from," Wash began slowly. "But won't we be pulverized in the clean up process?" 

Mal shrugged. "We luxuriate in it long enough, sure. But we won't. We get out soon as we're free of this place. Should be plenty of time. Kaylee got us a schematic of the whole facility." He looked over to Jayne, who was poised now to climb down. Addressing Wash again, he grinned. "Any more questions?"

Wash's brow furrowed as he studied Mal. "You're insane. Besides, wasn't there a whole mission once that we screwed up because you didn't know how to swim? I distinctly remember you not being able to swim."

Mal broke into a broad grin. "'Bout time I learned!"  
--

There was a ladder that descended down the hatch and into the sewers. Jayne climbed down it first, testing, and then Mal and Wash followed with Zoe bringing up the rear. Wash wasn't sure what he had expected; he had hoped for muck that came up to their knees, which they could slosh through.

Instead, he found they were set up on a very small ledge at the bottom of the ladder, overlooking a rushing, churning river of sludge. The smell was horrific, and Wash was glad for his breathing apparatus already, though it did little to block the smell.

Zoe closed the hatch behind her and moved to stand beside Wash. Mal's flashlight feebly wavered over the muck. He held on to it in one hand and looked to either side, making sure everyone was on the same page. Unable to speak with the mouthpiece now in place, he just grinned at Wash and nodded. He held up the hand not holding the flashlight and extended all five of his fingers.

He counted down silently: four, three, two. When he hit one, all four of them leapt off the ledge and into the churning sewage. The current swiftly carried them away, dunking them under and threatening to pull them apart.

The breath masks worked well, filtering out the muck and supplying them with fresh air. The nylon cord attaching all four together pulled tight. It dug through Wash's clothes, jutting into his skin, but it held firm and prevented them from separating.

Wash quickly lost track of how far they had traveled. He didn't even know where the others were. He was aware he was at least still attached to Mal, as he felt the pull on his belt from the cord Mal was attached to, but he couldn't see him through the brown water and darkness. He struggled as best he could against the current, trying to keep his head above the filth to ascertain their location, but he had little luck; the current was much too strong.

If it had been up to him to get them out of this mess, he would have failed. They would have been sucked into the chemical treatment machine and processed down to drinkable particles. The horrific smell and knowledge of what he was floating in were all he could think about. He struggled hard enough resist vomiting; there was no way for him to scan the shores to see if they were free or still in danger, too.

Jayne, fortunately, wasn't as affected. He brought their floating to a halt when he grabbed onto a ladder rung that protruded down a wall. Clinging to it with one arm and both his legs, he reeled Mal in. Jayne pushed Mal up the ladder and started hauling in Wash. By the time Wash got to the ladder, Mal had already pulled his breath mask off and was coughing heavily.

He pulled his own mask off and went to Mal to make sure he was all right. Jayne pulled Zoe out of the water in the meantime, and soon the four of them were sitting on the concrete slab recouping.

"Well," Mal said after he had recovered, "that ain't an event I'm like to repeat." He ran a hand through his hair and flicked it disgustedly, watching the brown drops fly off his skin and mar the concrete.

Jayne pulled off his breath mask, unclipped from the nylon belt, and got to his feet. "I ain't never felt so dirty," he grunted.

Wash staggered to his feet. The lack of food over the past few days hadn't made that journey an easy one, and he was afraid what little he had eaten was about to come back up. He could hardly stand to touch himself because of the filth sticking to him. He spat out the breath mask and got to his feet. "This is our worse rescue plan yet." 

Zoe seemed the least affected by the events, even though her thick hair hung heavy on her shoulders, caked and dripping with sludge. "We got time for reflection later. Best keep moving 'fore we get caught with our pants down," she stated.

Mal pulled to his feet and flicked his wrists clean again. He stashed his breath mask in a sodden pocket and unwrapped his gun from its bag. "She's right. No time to sit and contemplate all that right now. We ain't home free yet."

Wash glanced around the facility they were now in. It was almost like a warehouse, thick walls and a very high ceiling. He got the impression they were still underground but perhaps not nearly as deep as before. Behind them, the sewer stretched on and disappeared behind a wall. Before them was a huge machine with an enormous tank that filled most of the building. The sewage rushed into the tank to be chemically treated--the first step toward purifying it.

"Why ain't there any guards here?" Jayne questioned cautiously as he stored his breath mask and gun bag in his pocket. He checked his weapon over carefully, making certain she hadn't been damaged or water-logged in the journey.

Zoe and Mal glanced around quickly. "Reckon there are, we just ain't seen 'em yet," Mal answered. He shook his head quickly, sending more sludge flying off him. "Best we not stand here much longer." He turned to Zoe. "We got directions?"

Zoe slipped the data pad Mal had been using earlier out of its protective plastic casing and consulted it. "Can't say for certain where we came up at," she announced. "Figure our best bet is through those, though." She raised a hand and gestured to a small pair of doors in the distance.

"Let's go, then," Mal announced and took off.

The doors were locked but not heavily. Jayne shot them open, and they soon found themselves in a darkened passageway. The walls were painted slate grey and labeled clearly. They were on level B9, which Zoe was able to use to determine their location in the facility on her data pad.

"This way," she called and took off, leading the way. She quickly located a stairwell and started up. 

Nine flights was a considerable haul for Wash, and he was out of breath by the time they reached the ground level. He leaned against the wall to try and calm his rapidly beating heart.

Jayne pushed past him and leaned against the door. He cracked it open a centimeter or two and peeked through before quickly and quietly shutting it. "Three guards. Nothing fancy, just them rentable security types."

"Three you can see," Mal mused and checked his gun over carefully. "How many you imagine are really out there?"

"Probably no more'n'five," Jayne guessed. "None of 'em have fancy equipment or nothing, just standard guns. Could probably take 'em down without even shootin', if we was wantin' t'be quiet."

Zoe nodded. "They ain't gonna be expecting a three man ambush," she agreed.

Wash pouted a bit as he found himself automatically excluded from the attack line up once again.

"All right," Mal conceded. He looked to Zoe and Jayne and nodded. "We go out and corner them. No shooting if we don't have to. We find something to tie them up with and get out of here."

Jayne grunted. "I could smoke 'em," he stated and pulled out one of his smoke grenades and showed it off.

"You do that, then how do we get through?" Mal chided. "No, we go by force. Shoot 'em if they try t'shoot you. The less folk we kill on this planet, the better."

Wash, usually one against violence, wasn't really opposed to killing the men out there if it meant actually escaping without taking bullets themselves. "So, what do I do, just wait back here and hope they aren't really heavily armed and accurate shots?"

Mal gave him a dashing grin, which was fairly impressive considering how filthy he looked. "Pretty much. Once we get out of here, we're gonna need you to pick out a space worthy vessel to hijack. Can't have you getting shot before then."

"But it's okay for _you_ to get shot?" Wash asked seriously.

Mal unnecessarily reached out and squeezed Wash's arm. He stared down at him intently for several seconds. "Yeah. That's what I do." He nodded firmly with reassuring eyes. "You wait here. We'll call when it's clear."

Mal released Wash before he could protest. Mal inclined his head, and he, Jayne, and Zoe burst through the doors.

Wash winced and stood back, listening to the cries of surprise from the guards inside. The sound of a tussle followed, along with the wet crack of a bone breaking. When a gun went off, he leapt, startled, and pushed the door open to take a view.

Jayne had one man pinned on the floor and writhing in pain. Zoe had two others leveled with her gun, and Mal held his pistol to the head of a fourth. "Y'all're gonna want to be puttin' your guns down real slow, now," Mal called casually, "and then put your hands above your heads." He watched carefully as the three men did as they were told. "This is our time for heroics, not yours. Nice and easy like, and no one gets hurt."

"No one 'sides this fella," Jayne noted in correction and put his foot on the man whose arm he'd broken. "He didn't follow th'rules so well."

Wash saw the situation was taken care of and eased out of his hiding space.

"On the floor, face down," Zoe commanded. When the men had done as ordered, she let Mal cover them and went in search for something to tie them up with. Her eyes and gun flickered quickly to Wash when she spied him. He immediately put his hands in the air. Zoe saw it was him and dipped her gun nozzle. "You almost just got yourself filled with lead," she noted in a voice that sounded too tense for the situation.

Wash hurried over to her. "Sorry," he said, truly meaning it. "We need rope?" She lowered her gun and nodded. "I'm on it," Wash announced and ducked past her, looking through the front desk.

He returned a few moments later with some heavy-duty sealant tape. "This stuff will eat through skin if left on long enough," he warned. "So, probably best to be careful with it."

Zoe nodded and took the tape from him. She expertly bound the men using their clothes as a barrier between their skin and the sealant tape.

When all four were bound, they dragged them behind the front desk and left them to be rescued by someone else later. Mal took off, leading the way again toward the central door in the room. There were no windows in the complex, and this door was nondescript and made of wood.

The door led outside, and when he pushed it open, they were greeted with the cool blackness of nighttime. A moon hung low, partially covered by clouds, and the light from a few of the strongest, twinkling stars shone on them. Mal eased out along the wall, and the other three followed.

Wash took a deep, calming breath of the night air and closed his eyes for a moment. They were free.

Seconds later, he nearly gagged on the smell still wafting off of them and opened his eyes. "Now what?" he questioned softly.

Mal slipped away, slinking along the side of the building. His gun was drawn and at the ready, but they met no resistance. "Gotta find us a parking lot," he whispered back.

In due time, they stumbled across the waste treatment's parking garage and slipped inside. Most of the vehicles were land-based and couldn't break orbit, but it was hard to tell the flight-capable ones in the dark.

"Do your thing, Wash," Mal announced. "We gotta get off this rock, and I ain't gonna be the one to pick a land-based shuttle t'try to make the escape with."

Wash felt a surge of loss as he realized _Serenity_'s shuttle was still parked in the lot back at Blue Sun. It would likely stay there until it was discovered and impounded. He swallowed hard and didn't move for several seconds as he processed it.

His emotions must have been easily readable, as he soon felt a reassuring squeeze on his arm. He looked up, expecting to see Mal's familiar compassionate gaze, but instead found Zoe studying him. The expression in her eyes said losing the shuttle was hard on her, too, like losing part of herself.

At Wash's silence, Mal turned back to look at him, concerned. He caught Wash and Zoe staring at each other with some sort of deep understanding, and he pressed his lips together at the sight. "We gotta go," he softly said after a second.

Wash pulled away from Zoe and looked back at Mal. For a second, he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. He pushed down the feelings trying to clamor up inside him and stalked away, walking down the aisle quickly, looking for a usable shuttle.

He found her at the end of the row. She was nothing pretty to look at, but she was space-worthy and of a reliable make. Jayne expertly popped the seal on her hatch, and the four of them quickly boarded.

It took a little more creativity to hotwire her ignition. Wash could have managed on _Serenity,_ but this shuttle was different. Flying was his expertise, not mechanics. He wanted to send a transmission to Kaylee, but he knew that would jeopardize both her position and theirs.

Zoe raided the contents of the shuttle, looking for anything they could use to clean up, while Jayne stood outside keeping guard. After a few minutes, Mal wormed his way under the pilot console beside Wash and tried to help him figure out the tangle of wires.

"It's a good thing we ain't being actively chased right now," Mal noted as the wires sparked in his hands. "You been at this almost ten minutes."

Wash nudged Mal's hands out of the way gently. "I've almost got it," he said softly. "I'm sorry I can't do better than this."

The shuttle churned and spun to life as Wash connected two wires. Mal quickly caught Wash's hands where they were and held them lightly. "You did good, Wash," he softly whispered.

Wash was aware they weren't talking about the shuttle and hadn't been for a while. He swallowed tightly and turned to look at him. "What're you going to do when we get back to _Serenity_?"

Mal's fingers gently stroked against Wash's for a second, and then he just shrugged. "Figure that out when we get there." Hearing Zoe's approaching feet, he smiled boyishly, released Wash, and wormed his way out from under the console.

"Good to go, sir?" Zoe questioned.

Mal dusted his hands off on his coat; this did nothing to clean them, as his coat was still wet. "Looks like," he replied. "Better get Jayne in here."

Zoe ducked out to call Jayne in, and Wash pulled up from under the console. He looked up at Mal intently as he got to his feet. Everything he wanted to say was going to have to wait. It took only a few seconds for Jayne to get on board, and Wash couldn't waste time thinking about feelings and emotions. He slipped into the pilot chair and continued powering up the ship.

"Hatch is sealed," Zoe called as she and Jayne made their way into the cockpit. "Here, sir," she added and tossed Mal a soft white cloth. She had another which she was sharing with Jayne, using it to wipe her hands and face off.

Mal rubbed his face clean and leaned back as Wash flipped the thrusters on. The ship lifted off the ground.

"You folks might want to hold on to something," Wash announced as he eased the shuttle out of its space and coasted her down the aisle. "Never flown one of these before; it could be bumpy."

The three of them braced against the walls in preparation, but Wash cleared the parking structure without incident. He flew her straight and steady, only trembling slightly when she hit the troposphere. The shuttle shook more as he pushed through the atmosphere, but he wasn't worried; there was always turbulence when breaking through to the black.

They slipped into the cool peace of space after only a few minutes, and the stars opened bright and shiny before them, glittering welcomingly. To the portside hung one of Londinium's moons, but there was no waiting queue of ships attempting to enter Londinium airspace this time.

Mal put his hand on the back of the pilot chair and leaned forward. "Looks like they're not monitoring commerce so closely anymore," he said with cheer in his voice. "That's a good sign we've dealt a nice blow."

Wash agreed with a nod but then shook his head. "Where am I heading?"

Mal leaned in closer than he needed to and plotted in a course from memory. He stayed near, almost lingering, like he might not get the chance to touch Wash again anytime soon. Wash wanted to find it uncomforting or awkward that Mal was so near, but he didn't, not even with Zoe standing right behind them.

Phaethon was Londinium's largest moon, and Mal's coordinates sent them to its dark side. Phaethon was as over-populated and highly advanced as Londinium, but contained a slightly poorer class of people—those who worked on the large planet but couldn't afford to live there. Those types frequently lived on one of Londinium's three moons and commuted to the planet for work.

As a result, a high level of traffic came and went from Phaethon. With the Alliance still reeling from the trigger break, traffic was thick as workers were called in or prepared to leave. _Serenity_ easily blended into the mess.

It took Wash no time at all to find her, but he was pleased to see that she didn't stick out amongst the other vessels. When they were within visual contact, Mal opened a short-wave link to her. "_Ning Jing_," he transmitted jovially, using the code name, "this is Captain Tightpants requesting permission to dock."

He was greeted with a great deal of giggling.

The sound made Mal smile, and he looked around to see Zoe and Jayne both grinning, too. They had done it. They'd escaped, Wash was unhurt, and they'd found _Serenity_ again.

The giggling subsided and River's voice came through. "Permission granted," she answered joyfully.

Kaylee's voice chimed in right behind her. "You got Wash?" she called.

"They got me, Kaylee," he answered back, smiling serenely as he piloted the shuttle in toward _Serenity_. He glanced over his shoulder, first to Mal, then to Jayne and Zoe, and his smile broadened. "They got me real good."

"Welcome home," Kaylee sighed cheerfully.  
--

Wash had no problem getting a seal with _Serenity_. The shuttle was too big to fit into the old shuttle's dock, but he made a connection on the cargo bay door, airlock to airlock. Simon and Kaylee were waiting for them when they exited, and Kaylee enveloped Wash in a tight hug as soon as she saw him.

"We was so worried when we heard you got caught!" she cried and squeezed him.

"Kaylee," Simon warned. "Be careful, he might be hurt." He approached quickly, holding his medical kit, and looked Wash over. Seeing no immediate injures, he then turned to study the others. "Everyone's all right?" He seemed quite amazed at the idea.

Zoe and Jayne just grinned at him smugly.

Mal smiled tightly as he sealed the airlock behind him, disengaging the connection with the other vessel. The shuttle detached and drifted away. Once that was done, he picked up the intercom and spoke into it. "Chickens are all home to roost," he called. "Take us out of here, Albatross."

"Will do," River answered back. _Serenity_ sighed around them as she powered up and took off, shedding the unfamiliar, crowded airspace.

Kaylee pulled back from Wash with a peculiar expression on her face. "Well, guess the sewer plan worked, huh?" she mused. She held her arms out in front of her, now aware she'd just hugged someone who'd swum through filth.

Wash gave her a crooked grin. "It was a great plan, Kaylee," he enthused. "And everything you rigged up for me on the infiltration went great."

"Oh, I'm glad," she replied with relief. "I was worried you got caught 'cause o'me." She squeezed his hand and then looked from Mal to Jayne gratefully. "We was really worried with all you gone."

Simon moved in close to Wash and checked him over carefully, clearly unwilling to take him at his word that he was all right. "They did do something to you, didn't they?" Simon questioned as he studied Wash.

"Just a little," Wash answered quietly. "How can you tell?"

"Subconjunctival hemorrhage," he explained as he leaned in to study his face. "Your eyes are bloodshot. Do they hurt?"

Baffled, Wash shook his head. "No."

"I'd like to do a full examination after you've had a chance to clean up, just to be sure. And I'll need a complete rundown of what happened inside," Simon stated before quickly backing off.

Wash nodded. "Of course."

Kaylee gave them both sweet looks. "Can't be too bad. Worse thing 'bout him is th'smell, and they all got that problem."

Mal reached out and attempted to ruffle Kaylee's hair but she laughed and ducked away from him. "You keep those filthy mits to yourself, Cap'n Tighty," she chided brightly.

Mal chuckled and sobered a little. "You did all right on this boat without us, Kaylee?"

She nodded and smiled. "I kinda like being in charge," she said with a smug little grin. "Got t'order Simon'n'River around. Felt real important."

"She told us to paint the engine room pink," Simon stated with a very frank and serious expression on his face.

Mal had started towards the stairs to change, but that comment brought him up short. He looked back over his shoulder at them, incredulous. "What?"

"Just t'pass the time," Kaylee protested quickly. "Keep our minds off you guys out there risking your lives and us not knowin' whether or not you'd make it."

Mal waved his hand quickly, cutting her off. "But you didn't, right? My engine ain't pink now, is it?"

Kaylee rolled her eyes. "No, it ain't. We didn't do it."

"Good," Mal said with relief. He looked pointedly over to Jayne. Jayne was wearing the same sort of horrified expression Mal had been, as though a pink engine was somehow affronting to all that they held manly about themselves. The two shook their heads and started toward the stairs. Wash and Zoe fell into step, hot on their heels.

Kaylee shook her head, amused, and put her hands on her hips. "Honestly. It ain't like anyone ever goes in there 'sides me, anyway," she called.

Simon stood next to her, watching the other four start up the stairs. He smiled faintly before looking over at her. He studied her silently for a few moments. "You know, I'm sure the captain is going to have a crew meeting as soon as they're all clean," he noted plainly.

Kaylee turned to look at him expectantly, clearly missing his point.

Simon looked away from her, smiling sheepishly. "_You_ might want to change, too." His voice was light but friendly. He winced a little before looking at her again, taking note of the wet spot on her jumpsuit. "Wash sort of rubbed off on you."

Kaylee glanced down at her clothes and laughed softly. She turned and reached over to pull Simon, who was wearing one of his neat little vests and dress shirts, into a tight hug. She just smiled and smiled.


	15. Chapter 15

After scrubbing clean and donning fresh clothes, Wash slipped into the cockpit to say a proper hello to _Serenity_. He found River in the pilot's chair looking dreamily out the observation windows. She didn't turn when he entered. For a while he said nothing, just stood beside the chair and watched the stars with her.

"You came back," she softly said into the quiet around them.

Wash affectionately looked down at her. "Was brought back, yeah."

"I knew you would," she quietly stated, drawing her knees to her chest . Her eyes remained fixed on the stars. "From the beginning." She turned at last to gaze up at him, and her eyes seemed haunted with sadness. It was the same sort of sadness Wash recognized from when she had spoken of Miranda over a year ago.

"River," he began, uncertainly.

She shook her head, silencing him. "When they recovered, they started questioning," she elaborated in a hushed tone. "I could see the trouble on Miranda, knew the Reavers were coming, knew who was good and who was bad. I saw it all happening first." She studied his face, letting silence fill in the rest. The calm stretched on, even when she spoke again. "Zoe thought it immediately. Her eyes told me even when her thoughts didn't. I know Mal thought it once or twice, too. Kaylee tried not to. She tried so hard, and I had to pull her away because she didn't want to believe it. Simon was the only one who knew. He was the only one I had." She closed her eyes. "They never questioned, but I know they wanted to ask."

Wash put a hand out on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"I didn't see it," she confessed. "I don't know what I might have done if I had." Her eyes opened and flickered away from his for a few seconds as she contemplated possibilities that could never now be explored. "But in my mind, you've always been there." She looked back up at him. "There was a hole, a gap. You poured back into it and filled it." She took a deep breath. " I saw it, thought it was okay. But then I felt guilt. The others resented me a little for not knowing better."

"There wasn't anything you could do about it," Wash reassured her.

She studied his face carefully and then slowly nodded. "It's all right now." She hugged her knees tighter and looked back to the stars. "Everything is all right now."

Wash stood beside her a while longer. He closed his eyes and felt _Serenity_ hum around him. It was hard to believe he was back here, safe on the ship, and that Mal and Zoe were both there for him, and Kaylee and River and Simon and even Jayne. He opened his eyes. It felt like it was all a dream he was bound to wake up from. "Come on," he said, pushing the thought aside, "the others are gathering in the kitchen."

River tilted her head to look up at him and smiled softly. "Do you know which way you're going to go?" she asked serenely.

Wash thought he knew what she meant and just shrugged. "Forward," he answered. "That's about all I can do."

He stepped back away from her, and she turned and dropped her legs, gracefully unfolding out of the chair. She studied him several moments, as though gauging him somehow. Then she nodded, apparently pleased. "It's a good direction."  
--

Wash and River were greeted to several bright smiles when they descended the stairs into the galley together. Kaylee was passing out empty mugs. Simon was sitting at the far end of the table, grinning to see his his sister joining them. Mal sat on one side of the table and smiled up at the pair as they arrived. He'd had a shower and changed, and his hair was still a little damp and shiny in the light. He nodded welcomingly at Wash and enticed him over with just a look.

Kaylee pressed a mug into Wash's hand as he passed in front of her, and then she steered him off towards Mal.

"What's this?" he questioned, staring into the empty mug.

Mal smirked and reached over to push the chair beside him out. "Apparently, Jayne's got a surprise for us," Mal replied. "Figure it's of the drinkin' sort." He put a hand comfortably on Wash's knee once he'd sat. "You feeling better?"

Wash bobbed his head. "I am. I ate a little, showered a lot, said hello to my ship." He glanced down at Mal's hand and then looked up at him. "Now I'm getting comfortable with my captain." He gave a crooked smile.

"This gorram party can now get started!" Jayne announced as his broad frame filled up the door to the crew quarters. "Ha, ha!" he laughed and held up a bottle of dark colored liquid in his hands. "Think we got time for a little celebration, Mal?" he asked gleefully. "'Cause I got hooch enough for a lot."

Mal just smiled at Jayne's obvious glee and lifted his mug approvingly. "Kaylee already passed out the mugs," he called.

River slipped into a seat diagonal to Simon and studied the goings-on carefully. "The stage is set for the play within a play," she murmured softly.

Simon looked to her curiously. "River?" he questioned.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and just smiled brightly at him. "It's nothing. It's fun." She beamed at Mal and Wash across from her and looked up when Jayne poured a stream of liquid into Simon's cup.

"Now, how come River ain't got herself a mug?" Jayne asked suddenly. "We ain't waterin' the pilots or somethin'?"

"Well, they do say that it isn't safe to drink and drive, you know," Wash piped up, grinning quite broadly.

"Hell with that," Jayne protested. "Kaylee, get th'girl a mug."

"River's only eighteen," Simon began, floundering.

"Hell, boy," Jayne cut him off. "I was drinking stuff harder'n'this when I was half her age." He bent and plucked the mug out of Simon's hand and pressed it into River's.

"Thank you," River said as she accepted the mug. She tilted her head obligingly and grinned merrily at Simon when Jayne moved past them to fill Wash and Mal's mugs. She took a drink and wrinkled her face up.

Simon laughed and put an arm around her casually. "I suppose if you must drink, tonight's the night to do it."

Kaylee gave Simon a new mug and then settled down with her own mug beside Wash. Jayne eventually sat down at the head of the table, opposite Simon.

"I'd only dare to _hope_ we could have a reunion celebration like this," Kaylee crooned happily over her mug. Her eyes darted from Mal to Wash to Jayne.

River raised her glass quickly. "A toast to seeing things through!" she announced.

Everyone laughed for several seconds at her unexpected enthusiasm. Then Kaylee nodded, warming to the suggestion. "She ain't off her mark, y'know," she agreed. "Toastin' is good!" She lifted her mug up too. "T'seein' things through!"

The men all broke into smiles at her words and raised their mugs as well. After taking drinks from them, Wash raised his glass again almost immediately. "To Mal, for being an insane but lovable son of a bitch who doesn't know when to quit," he called happily. The rest cheered and drank. Wash turned to him, smiling. "I'm very grateful for that flaw, you know," he added privately.

Mal met his gaze with a deep, intense one. He was smiling softly like had been all night, but his eyes held a sort of resigned sadness in them that drew Wash in immediately. The cheers from the others seemed to fade away in that moment. Wash knew what the look was for and what it meant, but seeing it so plainly written on Mal's face pulled the air out of him.

Jayne was making another toast, but Wash didn't hear the words. He was only aware of Mal's hand as he took it off Wash's knee and raised it to touch his cheek. Mal's fingers were warm as they ghosted over his skin. Mal's eyes broke away from Wash's gaze for just a moment, and Wash knew it was because Mal was studying his lips.

Wash smiled easily, encouraging, and Mal's eyes lidded closed slightly as he leaned to take what they both knew was likely to be their very last kiss together. At the last second before contact, Mal's eyes flickered off from Wash, and he suddenly straightened up and pulled away.

"See you started the party without me," Zoe called as she came down the stairs.

Mal's hands dropped into his lap, sloshing a bit of alcohol as they fell. Wash swiftly turned away from him to take Zoe in.

She had washed and scrubbed probably twice as long as he had, and now her hair hung in soft, loose curls around her face and shoulders. Her skin glowed in the tawny light of the kitchen. She wore a casual red shirt and dark brown trousers along with her boots, but she seemed warmer and more welcoming than Wash remembered ever seeing her before.

Her eyes swept over the crew, but eventually they settled on Wash. She smirked almost playfully at the way his mouth was now hanging open.

Mal squeezed Wash's arm, and only that made him break his eye contact with Zoe. He turned back to look at Mal as Kaylee got up to get Zoe a mug. The sadness in Mal's eyes had vanished, and now he was all smiles and cheer. "Zoe and me spent a real long time talkin' this past week," he informed Wash in an easy voice.

Wash looked back to Zoe and watched her talk to Kaylee as she filled Zoe's mug. Mal's voice continued on in Wash's ear. "Think she's got some things she needs to say t'you," he quietly explained. Mal's hand squeezed Wash's arm again, then slipped onto his back and gently nudged him out of the chair. "Go to her," he encouraged.

Wash got to his feet uncertainly, clutching his mug. He looked back at Mal, expecting to see some hidden pain in his eyes. If there was any, it was too well veiled for him to make out. Zoe and Kaylee were expectantly looking at him now, so he had no choice but to start over.

Zoe studied Wash for several moments and then turned to Kaylee with a smile. "Give us a bit, will you?"

Kaylee nodded. "'Course! You two take your time," she said cheerfully and waved a bit. She smiled brightly to Wash and slipped around the two of them back to the table. She sat in Wash's vacated chair next to Mal and began animatedly asking for specifics on the breakout from the facility.

Jayne launched into a tirade about how he killed three federal officers before they blew out the main power supply and made it down to Wash.

Mal paid no attention. He was watching Zoe and Wash as they spoke together in low voices, smiling embarrassedly at one another like kids on their first date. Neither one of them glanced back at him as they turned away from the table and slipped out into the crew quarters.

Mal watched them as they walked away together and only turned his attention back to the others when he saw Wash sink down into the pilot's chair and Zoe lean against the console to face him.  
--

Zoe's eyes were fixed on the mug of alcohol she had in her hands. She had a tender expression on her face, but it was creased slightly with concern. Wash sat patiently in the pilot's chair, waiting for her to find the right words to begin.

"Guess I owe you an apology," she began in a soft tone Wash had only ever heard her use when they were together in private. She tilted her head and her hair pooled over her shoulder, but she didn't look up. "Probably several."

Wash smiled warmly and reached out to touch her. He squeezed her arm and left his hand there. "You don't have to say anything. You know I understand."

The touch made her look up, and she met his eyes. Her expression clouded just a bit, and she shook her head. "No, you don't," she replied intently. Her shoulders squared a little as she drew herself up. "I screwed up. Ain't something I'm too proud to admit," she confessed. "I did a lot of wrong things these past few months." She nodded her head, admitting. "Plan to fix that."

Wash remained sitting, leaning forward on the chair, and left his hand on her arm. He wasn't going to force her to say anything, but he knew better than to try to silence her, either. She needed to tell him these things, even if he was beyond needing to hear them. He gave her an understanding smile and sat and listened intently.

"I had to have my reservations," she began. Her tone was soft again, and her eyes were on him fondly. She lifted one of her hands off her mug to fall over the hand he had on her arm. "Couldn't let myself believe too much that this could be real." She smiled sadly. "Thought it'd be easier t'act like I didn't care."

"That's why you avoided me," Wash supplied gently.

It was clear this was hard for her because she flinched at the statement. Then she nodded and accepted that. "It was harder to have you near but not to have you, than to not have you around at all." She pressed her lips together for a few seconds as she contemplated that sentence and then shook her head again. "Thought I could explain it all. Thought I'd be the one saying 'I told you so' t'Mal and the others later." Her gaze returned to him, and she drank in his face.

"Zoe," Wash began, but she shook her head and cut him off. She wasn't done.

"Seein' you and he together is what done it." She smiled at her own foolishness, a full smile that showed off her beautiful teeth and luminous eyes. "Ain't like me t'be jealous," she admitted, "but that did it. But why? I had to ask myself that." She bobbed her head a little, thoughtfully. "Figured folk don't get jealous over Alliance plants." She took her hand off Wash's and raised it to touch his face.

Wash's eyes fluttered closed as she did.

"Captain don't fall for men he can't trust, neither," she added. "Not like that." She took a deep breath and dropped her hand away. Wash opened his eyes to study her, and when she saw the look there, she smiled again. "By the time I figured it all out for myself, though, you'd already left. Thought maybe I was too late. Maybe you weren't gonna come back. Maybe you would come back and I'd've lost you anyway, to him." She nodded her head, conceding. "Man managed t'trust you when your own wife didn't. Couldn't blame you for that."

Wash shook his head, trying to deny that accusation, but he didn't say anything. He just tightened his hold on her arm and tried to say how much he loved her through the look in his eyes.

She seemed to read it, because she smiled more. "You went and got yourself captured," she mused, a little easier. She shifted on the console and set her mug down beside a dinosaur. When her other hand was free, she slid closer to him and touched his face again with one hand, letting the other rest on his hand on her arm.

"Knew right away I had to go in," she admitted. "Knew if I felt so strong that I had t'get you back, there was no way I could doubt that it was _you_." She nodded a little, mostly to herself. "Knew, too, that when I got you, you'd go to the captain." She gave a sad little crooked smile and took a moment to muse over that. "Think he knew, too."

She let her breath out slowly and lifted her head. Down the corridor, she could see into the kitchen just a bit and hear the voices of the rest of the crew, muffled and cheerful without them. She returned her gaze to Wash. "We talked, him and I." She shook her head. "We don't do that much, outside the job. Ain't much t'say that needs words, not after all these years." Her head nodded again. "But we talked 'bout you.

"And he knew," she explained. "The moment I opened my mouth, he knew. Thinkin' he almost did it just so I'd figure it out, too." She smiled brightly, and Wash knew that it was all right; the talking hadn't been a bad thing. Her face sobered again. "Told him I wasn't mad at him for anything. He did what needed to be done. I hadn't stepping up to fill the shoes that desperately needed fillin', so he did. Told him I was thankful for that." She gave Wash an intent look. "I am." She made the point clear. "Wouldn't've made it this far without him doing what he did."

Wash nodded in agreement, although he found the whole conversation slightly bizarre, all things considered. Her hand on him and her smile overwrote all the strangeness, and he kept listening.

Zoe's grin turned playful and she hesitated a bit, thinking on her next words. "We figured, you know," she began, shifting to lean in more, "to even the playing field, he and I ought to sleep together." Her grin broadened slowly as Wash's eyes widened.

"You _didn't_!" Wash breathed in disbelief.

Zoe's smile hung between them like a light for several moments before she demurely tilted her head to the side. "No, we didn't." She laughed softly at the look of relief that washed over his face, and in that instant, she leaned in and kissed him. 

Whatever thoughts Wash might have been formulating on the subject fled immediately. He closed his eyes and soaked her in. He absorbed her smell and the way she felt against him. It was half newly discovered and half remembered memories, and he reveled in the sensations it sent coursing through his body. She pulled back after a few seconds and studied him. "There any way you're ever going to forgive me for this, dear?" she questioned, smiling.

Wash thought his own transgressions with other people pretty much made up for it, but he was never one to turn down playing along with to coy Zoe. "A little more kissing might help me decide," he answered once he found his voice.

Zoe laughed easily at him, a buoyant, light sound. Wash broke into an amazing grin and reached forward to pull her into his lap. He encircled his arms around her, and she met him halfway, kissing him again. It was deeper this time and full of far more meaning. She had lost a husband and just rediscovered him, and the kiss she gave him explained all that. Her arms wrapped to him, clinging in a possessive way that Wash knew was new.

He had lost a wife, too, and a year of his life. He'd gone through a hellish ordeal and somehow, against all the odds, he had come out on top. His kiss, as he squeezed her tightly, reflected that back into her.

"Wash, Wash, Wash," Zoe breathed into his ear once they pulled apart, as though to make sure he was real. She kissed the side of his face and then his ear. "Baby," she murmured and pulled back.

Wash was calmer than he thought he would be. Maybe he'd known since the first day he'd seen her again that this moment would come to pass. Maybe he just enjoyed being right and being fussed over by the woman he had pined on for months. Maybe it was just the fact that he had changed and grown stronger, but he just smiled contently as she kissed him and crooned over him, and he held her securely against him.

When her output of emotions subsided, she curled against him. He tucked her head under his chin and rested her against his shoulder. He leaned back in the chair, remembering many times before they'd assumed this position in the cockpit, but he couldn't remember it ever being this special. He stroked her hair softly, marveling in the texture of it and how he'd forgotten how it felt.

Zoe didn't sleep but instead listened to the beating of his heart as it thrummed evenly beneath the hand she pressed to his chest. It was strange but comforting sound, and she found the mystery around it quite intriguing. After several long minutes, she let out a soft sigh. "Think we'd better go back and join the others?"

Wash stretched his legs out beneath him and let his hand come to a still on the curve of her waist. "They all know 'bout this?" he asked softly.

"Mmm," she answered, her grin slowly creeping back onto her face. "They do."

Wash found he didn't really want to get up from the cozy situation he now found himself in, but he knew that it didn't make sense for them to just stay there. They needed to show the rest of the crew they were made up, at least. Maybe then, he hoped, Zoe would invite him down to her bunk.

"Let's go face the crowd," he agreed and shifted to adjust Zoe on his lap.

She unfurled from him and got back to her feet. One of her hands crossed to hold her opposite arm and, for just a moment, she appeared small and somewhat insecure. Wash got to his feet immediately and wrapped one of his arms around her waist.

She smiled and leaned into him as her easy, old demeanor effortlessly slipped back into place. "Think I could get used to this again," she teased.

With a very cheerful, wicked grin, Wash dropped his hand and gave her a loving pop on the rump. She laughed, surprised, and pulled away from him. "Think I could, too!" he called jovially.

She spun back to face him and put her hands out on either side of his head. She pulled him in by his ears to kiss him again. It was a slow, easy kiss, and she kept her eyes open, studying his reactions. He put his hands on her hips and just grinned back when she broke the kiss. "We got a lot of time to make up for, husband," she observed after they'd studied one another awhile.

"Weren't we going to see the others?" he asked happily without pulling away from her. "Put in an appearance or something?"

"Yeah," she drawled and nodded. She pulled away from him and studied him for several seconds before nodding. "A short one." She hesitated for several seconds, steeling herself to reenter the galley with Wash at her side. "I'm ready," she announced.

Wash had never seen Zoe hesitate over something like this before. It took a moment for him to realize that, of course, she had changed just as much as he had. He smiled brightly at her and slipped his arm around her waist. "Not like you'll be going out there alone," he pointed out and started walking.

Zoe nodded and smiled and moved to fall into step beside him, letting her own arm snake around his back. Perhaps it was a little strange to fall so quickly and so completely back into place with each other, but Wash didn't think much of it. It was a place he'd never really left, and he felt that Zoe hadn't, either. A wall had just been erected between them, and that had been all that separated them. Now that it had come down, it was just like two drops of water joining together again.

They reached the bottom of the stairs together and began crossing through the crew quarter corridor. Zoe leaned into him easily as they progressed, looking at the people seated at the table through the doorway before them. Mal had already noticed them approaching and was smiling slightly at the sight.

"What're we going to do 'bout Mal?" Zoe questioned softly into Wash's ear.

He let his mouth slide into a very content smirk as he took in the laughing table of people before them. He really didn't know anything at that moment beside the fact that he was happy and all was right with the world. "We'll think of something," he mused blissfully. He had all the time in the universe to think about that now.

They stepped into the light at the top of the stairwell to the kitchen, and all the eyes at the table drew to them. There wasn't a single person who wasn't smiling brightly at the sight of Wash and Zoe with their arms around each other.

They stood there for a moment grinning down at everyone, and then Wash nudged Zoe playfully to walk down the steps together. Wash pulled out a chair for Zoe, and she took a seat. He pulled out the other chair and settled beside her, opposite Mal and Kaylee.

After a few seconds of silence, Jayne cleared his voice and forced the smile off his face. "I still don't get what she sees in 'im," he teased off-handedly, but the comment was mostly directed as an aside to Simon. Kaylee guffawed and reached across to smack Jayne playfully.

Wash looked across the table and found Mal smiling at the both of them. Their eyes connected. Wash's smile deepened, warm and full of love and caring for Mal. He could see Mal's own smile strengthening in return.

Mal put his hands on the table and nodded, pleased. "Everything's back t'how it ought t'be," he stated, contently. His gaze pulled off Wash and traveled languidly around the table, taking in the faces of each member of his crew. They all were smiling and nodding, projecting love for each other and shining in a way he had never seen before.

The kitchen glowed warm and welcoming. _Serenity_ thrummed a melody that wrapped all of them together, sinking the love deep into their very bones. The universe sang all around them, encompassing each of them in its vastness. The last pieces of the puzzle had finally been returned to their proper places. The stars in the black seemed to acknowledge the homecoming, and they sang out with love and peace and light because of it.

"_And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." – The Beatles_

The End.


End file.
